


Alone and Hunted

by Depressed_Lemon_Bite



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sun & Moon | Pokemon Sun & Moon Versions
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Depression, Drug Abuse, Father-Son Relationship, Other, Physical Abuse, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Violence, mentions of:
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-26
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:38:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 53,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Depressed_Lemon_Bite/pseuds/Depressed_Lemon_Bite
Summary: Normally, one would believe that having their ass handed to them multiple times by an eleven year old would be a hard enough kick in the nuts that life would leave said person alone. In Guzma's case, that wasn't enough. Not only did he have to lose against a fucking child, but he lost complete control of his gang. His grunts scattered. His name and his gang disgraced and spat upon. His clothes torn from him. His insignia destroyed, and that was only the beginning. Now he was being hunted, the people of Alola seeking revenge against him, even going as far as taking his beloved pokémon from him.Apparently the sight of him beaten and alone was enough to tug at the dusty heartstrings in the policeman Nanu's chest. However, it wasn't enough to keep the old man from punishing him with a full year of grueling community service. At least it was better than dying at the hands of angry Alolans. That's what people said, anyways. Guzma wasn't convinced.





	1. Historic Failure

Everything in the world was meant to crumble and decay. Vanishing into ashes is the quintessence of life. Death and destruction seek out the strong and grand, digging the sharp tools of their trade deep into the great, draining them of their blood until only a skeleton is left behind with skin withering away under the sun until it was once again dust. Examples of their deeds are strewn throughout history. Rome was built in 1,009,491 days, yet it burned in one. The Great Wall of China stood tall and proud upon the thousands of bodies that built it, but ok the wall never stopped a northern invasion. The Great Library of Alexandria carried vast knowledge of culture and science, and it was all burned in minutes. Pompeii, a beautiful city doomed with a ticking time bomb that consumed the city in suffocating ash. Death and destruction devour those who try to hold themselves above dirt and mud, and Guzma was no exception to this practice.

Death came from the left, and destruction from the right, their fists as heavy as rocks, their skin just as rough as one. Someone needs to use lotion. The two suddenly moved together and pain blistered along his face, causing the skin to swell as he was once again struck from the left and then the right. Blood filled his mouth as it dripped from his lips, squeezing through his clenched teeth and down his throat. His empty stomach churned as blood mixed with stomach acid, a familiar gurgling warning him that soon the blood would be coming back up.

Here he was, Guzma, the human version of Rome, the Great Wall of China, and Pompeii and Alexandria’s Library, burning to ash in one day and losing all dignity and worth. As if he really had much of that in the first place.

He knew why they were doing this. He knew what he had done, but he didn't give a _shit_. They thought this abuse would make him regret. As if they were really teaching him a _lesson_. Idiots. _Fools._ If there's one thing Guzma didn't do, it was _learn_.

With each passing punch he felt their attacks become weak. He watched their movements become sluggish and drag, becoming traceable. His piercing grey eyes descried their weaknesses. He almost couldn't keep the smug look off his face. A final punch to the bloody and bruised mug hid it well, though, and caused him to crumble to the dirty ground.

“C-c’mon. L-let's go. We hit him anymore and he'll be dead,” one panted, knuckles bleeding and torn from repeatedly striking Guzma's face.

“As if we could ever get so lucky,” the other laughed, wiping sweat from their brow and leaving a streak of blood smeared behind.

Guzma pressed his body back against the dumpster as he panted, staring at them through swollen and bleeding eyes. Blindly his fingers searched the ground beneath the dumpster, flinching when his fingertips brushed over a freezing

“Yeah…,” Guzma murmured as he slowly stood to his feet, blood dying his white hair red as it seeped down his face and dripped from his eyes as he swayed, knees shaking and head screaming, “None of us could be so lucky.”

Fear filled their eyes as Guzma tightened his grip on the pipe in his blood drenched hand. He could barely see. His skull felt like it was ripping in two. The pipe threatened to slip from his slick grasp, but he only held on tighter as he approached them slowly, stumbling through his pain. He was always ready to deliver a good beating.

“G-Guzma, stay back! W-we’ll kill you if you don't stop!” one stammered.

“I-it’ll be self defence! W-we won't get in trouble!” the other warned.

He couldn't stop the nasty grin that split his face. They were threatening to kill him? **_Laughable_**. What a weak threat that was. “If you want to kill me, do it! But I’m not gonna go down without a fight,” he snarled.

He didn't give them a warning before he lunged. They fell so easily. They had given up the moment their backs struck the ground. Sure they clawed at the asphalt, their nails tearing and bleeding from the struggle, but he could see in their eyes that they held no hope for survival. So he raised the pipe high in the air and brought it down with a violent roar, blood splattering across his skin, his clothes, and his soul.

He stopped when they became still, barely breathing but alive. The pipe fell from his hand and splashed in a puddle of blood as his weak legs wobbled while he took two steps back before finally collapsing, scraping his already wounded knees. The stars in the sky were protected from the sight of his violent act, black clouds shielding their twinkling vision as they began to cry. Guzma stared at the bodies before him. If he left them there they would easily die. They were so vulnerable. Vulnerability always sickened him. Guzma slowly climbed to his feet and stumbled to the brick wall, using it as leverage to wobble home as the rain cleansed his body of blood, but never healed him.

_“We hit him anymore and he’ll be dead.”_

_“As if we could ever get so lucky.”_

Yeah. Guzma would never be that lucky.


	2. Taken

Guzma despised waking up suddenly. It was always a painful experience, although just a mental one. Deep in slumber one second, the next jolting awake like someone had smashed a rock over his head. Sure felt like it. Guzma groaned, moving slightly to feel out the extent of his wounds without opening his eyes. He immediately hissed in pain. Yeah. Okay. Nothing broken, but they had done a lot of damage. Most of the pain was in his head, right where they had struck him from behind, but it didn't feel like anything happened to his skull, it was just a flesh wound. Either way, it fucking _hurt_.

Guzma grunted again, adjusting his body to get comfortable. If he could sleep he could escape the pain. Sleep could always help him escape.

Guzma bristled, his whole body on high alert.

He couldn't remember where he fell asleep.

Was he in someone's yard again? No. It was too quiet for that. There wasn't a single sound that he could hear besides...clicking?

Was he in the woods? Was it some bird making that sound? No, the air was still. He had to be inside. But...how?

Guzma forced his eyes open, or at least tried, only managing to open the least swollen eye as he took a quick peek. A well fed meowth purred as it stood on a small table, peering down at a chess board intensely before letting out a cry of victory as it lifted a white piece and moved it to take down a black opponent. That was...odd.

“You shouldn't move so much,” a deep voice stated.

Guzma's eye moved across the table to the man the meowth played against.

Oh lord. He should've guessed.

Nanu sat across the room at the table, sitting comfortably on a high stool with one leg crossed lazily over the other. He sipped slowly on a brown coffee mug, his red eyes studying the board before he moved a piece of his own, stumping the meowth he played against. His tired eyes flicked over to Guzma, who instantly felt the hair on his neck stand on end.

This guy always left him feeling uncomfortable. He was just so... _creepy_. He was a cop too, and a kahuna. This guy's rap sheet was something a guy like him should be afraid of. If he were to be honest with himself, he was a little scared.

“Where am I?” Guzma rasped, wincing at the sound of his voice and the feeling of his dry lips peeling apart.

“Po Town Police Department,” Nanu replied, taking another drink from his mug.

“I have to get out of here,” Guzma grumbled as he pushed himself up into a seated position.

He cried out as his hand grasped at his side, whimpering as he felt knives stabbing at him over and over again. It wasn't until the pain stopped that he let out air he had locked in his lungs. Sweating and panting just from his existence, Guzma groaned as he felt his head became heavy and vision blur while a wave of dizziness rushed through his skull. He leaned his shoulder and head against the smooth wall to steady himself, thankful for the cool surface. He tried to calm himself by breathing slowly as his one good eye peeked down at his arm. Bandages whiter than his skin were wrapped tightly around his forearm and marred hands. He flipped his arm over to examine his bandaged palm. His wounds had been redressed multiple times. Dark dried blood stained the bandages on his palm, but the bandages on his forearm were spotless.

“Who...who did this? Who...bandaged me up?” Guzma gasped, the left over pain making it hard for him to recuperate and speak.

“I did. It's merely first aid. A doctor will be coming by later today to see you,” Nanu shrugged, watching with little interest as meowth made another move, which he retaliated with a move of his own.

“I’m not staying. I have to leave,” Guzma said as he pushed the blankets aside, hissing from the fast action as he resisted grabbing his wounded side, “Where’s my stuff? Where's the rest of my clothes?”

“You won't be going anywhere, I’m afraid. You'd be dead right now if I hadn't found you,” Nanu said as he set his mug down on the table.

Guzma snorted and began chuckling with morbid humor as he smirked to himself. “I’ve taken beatings way worse than this. These ain't _shit_ compared to that. Now give me my damn clothes,” he growled.

“That's not what I meant. You can't leave,” Nanu said as he stood up and stuck his hands inside his pockets.

“What? Why not? I told you I’m fine,” Guzma barked, coughing as a sharp pain stabbed at his sore throat from the force of his own voice.

“I’m not holding you here because you're wounded. I’m holding you here because you nearly killed two people last night. The people of this island want to see you dead for what you did. I don't want a rotting corpse on my hands so you're staying here, under arrest, in my care, until I figure out what to do with you,” Nanu explained with the same bland expression he always wore on his face.

Guzma felt his anger boil as his face became hot and his eye twitched. His brain throbbed from the over stimulating emotion, begging for him to take it easy as his body wavered in weakness. “Are you **_shitting me_**? They attacked me first, old man! You’ve seen what they did to me! What I did was-.”

“Self defence. I know. However, others don't see it that way. They see attacking you as a justice, whereas you attacking them is evil. I'm not saying that you were wrong to protect yourself, but I can't have you running around trying to get yourself killed,” Nanu said, his deep yet quiet voice taking on a more commanding tone as he approached Guzma, pulling his hands free from his pockets and reaching out to the beaten gangster. Guzma flinched when he saw the hands coming towards him, his body locking up as his anger expanded into fear. Nanu paused upon seeing the reaction and sighed, now speaking softly as he moved.

“Just lay down and get some sleep. You need it,” Nanu said as he gently laid one hand on Guzma's shoulder and the other on his hand, carefully pushing him back onto the cot and laid his arms at his sides before pulling the blanket back up to rest under Guzma’s chin.

“Take a nice nap. I’m going to leave for a bit to get some groceries, but I’m going to lock the doors and the windows so you don't have to worry about someone stopping by. Just rest, okay?” Nanu said as he pulled away.

Guzma had wanted to pull away from Nanu’s touch and curse at him, but his touch felt oddly...comfortable. “Why are you doing this?” Guzma asked in suspicion.

Nanu shrugged again. “It's my job,” he replied.

With that he locked all the windows, lovingly stroked his meowth, and walked out the door and locked it behind him.

Guzma laid still, slightly dazed by the man's actions. He wasn't used to being treated like...that. Like he was human. It wasn't... _unpleasant_ , but it was odd. Guzma snorted to himself. Of course it was odd. That’s all that man could be. It was his _job_? Bullshit.

Guzma waited a few more minutes before he sat up, grunting in pain once again, and swung his legs over the side of the cot. He groaned as he forced himself to stand, struggling to stay standing as his knees shook beneath him. “Come on, don't be so fucking weak,” he growled to himself.

Once he was sure he wouldn't fall, Guzma glanced around the room, spotting his clothes on the couch beside the table. He began to slowly inch his way across the room with tiny steps that were quickly growing to irritate him. He hated being this weak. A bell-like meow emitted by his feet and Guzma jumped, cursed from the jolting action, and looked down. There were five mewoth’s surrounding him, all of them staring up at him with expectations of being petted and loved. His nose wrinkled as he carefully pushed each one away with his foot. “Shoo. You're in the way,” he grumbled.

Once he finally managed to push them all away he stumbled to his clothes, falling down onto the couch with a grunt. He grabbed his jacket first, sighing in comfort when he pulled it back on. Then he pulled on his watch, necklace, and sunglasses, beginning to feel like himself again. By the time he finished pulling on his shoes he looked back up at the meowths, nearly having a heart attack when he saw that they were so close. There was even one or two on the couch with him. Guzma's brows furrowed.

One...two...three...now there was five more than before? Where had they been hiding? Why does Nanu have so many of them? Guzma shook his head to clear those thoughts away. He couldn't think about that right now. He needed to get out of here.

Guzma pushed himself off the couch, taking a second for his dizzy head to clear, then stumbled to the door. He twisted the lock with ease and smiled, feeling a bit smug, when he opened the door. Nanu really should have put him in a cell if he actually wanted to keep him from leaving.

Suddenly shrill yowls filled the air and Guzma jumped from the sharp sound, whirling around to find the meowths screaming as loud as they could. “Holy shit! Shhh! Shut up! Ya’ll are fucking loud! _Shhhhh_!” Guzma hissed. Well, he guesses he had his answer now. Meowths make a great alarm system.

Finally he gave up on trying to quiet them, closing the door to muffle their sound before he turned on his heel and headed home at a fast pace that he was sure to regret later. He wasn't dead, just felt like it, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from going home.

Home. Guzma thought he'd never see the place again. He smiled to himself lightly, almost giddy at the thought, but frowned when he realized that it wouldn't be the same. After that incident...nothing has been the same. All of his grunts were gone. Plumeria too. Guzma grabbed a fistfull of fabric that laid over his aching heart. He didn't even know if Plumeria was okay. Had the cops taken her too? Were people hurting her? He hoped not, because then he would really get arrested for killing people. Of course...that’s if she hadn't gotten to them first. Guzma smirked at the thought. She always was his number one girl.

Guzma had been so distracted that he hadn't heard the thunder rolling over his head, or the rain that began to drench his body, or the feet of angry citizens behind him.

Rain sang as it burst on a shining metal bat. The sound created a steady, peaceful beat even as it was raised high up and brought down with a heavy crack on Guzma's skull.

Guzma shrieked from the pain as he crumbled to the ground. Multiple hands grabbed at his limbs and pinned him down and pushed face into the stone path.

“Get the fuck off me!” Guzma screamed, struggling with all his might but unable to fight back in a weakened state, already gasping for air.

“Shut up!” one of his attackers snarled, smashing Guzma's face into the ground, and then repeating the action until they heard the sickening sound of his nose breaking, causing Guzma to scream louder.

Guzma felt feet kick at his sides, the sharp pain he felt from earlier tripling as his sunglasses were removed and smashed before his eyes. The same fate was given to his watch. His necklace was ripped off as well, the chain cutting deep into his neck before it snapped free. He continued to scream curses as they relentlessly beat him while a strange hissing sound came from behind his back. Fingers yanked on his hair. Nail tore at his skin. They held down his limbs at odd angles, making them helpless as he snarled. A hand drew too close. He lunged, jaws snapping as his teeth sank deep into a dirty hand, blood filling his mouth and spurting down his throat. Disgust overwhelmed him as the attacker shrieked and bashed his head once more against the stone walkway until he released their injured hand. His stomach rolled as blood dripped from his lips. This was vulnerability. Beaten and scared and trapped like a wild animal. life was fucking repetitive. Guzma took a deep breath and stilled, refusing to even breathe as he surrendered. They would stop if he relented. They always stopped when he behaved. The hissing suddenly stopped. The hands were removed from his body. With one final kick and a growl of, “That’s what you deserve,” he was left alone, the sound of many feet running away through mud echoing in his ears as he laid still, everything that made him feel like _him_ crushed and taken from him.

Guzma continued to lay under the rain, his body a mess of blood and pain. He whimpered, reaching out to drag himself forward through the mud, crawling bit by bit to his home. He only moved two or three feet before his arms gave out and he couldn't move. He needed help. Guzma groaned. He didn't want to ask for help. He was so tired already, not even fully healed.

“I’m sorry, buddy. But I need you,” Guzma murmured as he rolled onto his back with a weak cry, reaching down to slip his hand into his pocket.

His heart stilled. He reached into his other pocket. Empty.

He sat up, head swimming and stomach rolling in warning as panic took over his body and pushed pain aside.

“G? G where are you?” Guzma said, his breath quickening as he patted himself down quickly, “Golisopod? Golisopod where are you?”

After he checked himself over twice his heart stopped. All of them. Even Golisopod. They were gone. All of his pokémon were gone.

His panic consumed him, mixing with his rage as he shook in the thunderstorm. Who could have them? Who would-.

Guzma’s nose wrinkled, his anger pulsing through his blood as his pain went unnoticed. “Nanu,” he snarled. Of course he had his pokémon. It was the only way to keep him there. Guzma ground his teeth, tasting blood on his tongue as he once again forced himself to stand, growling through the pain as he marched weakly back to the police department.

His anger encouraged him to keep moving. No matter how many times he fell, no matter how much it hurt, he didn't stop walking. Not until he had them back.

Guzma’s body screamed in pain as he wobbled up to the police station. He tripped on the step, causing him to gasp as he slammed into the door, the force knocking a whimper from his lips. Once he regained his breath he gritted his teeth as he leaned heavily against the door on his side and raised his fist. He brought it down hard on the wood, hammering away before he paused to listen. There was no reply.

“Nanu! Open the fucking door! Nanu!” Guzma snarled as he stumbled back, kicking the door as hard as he could. The forced tipped him back and his shaking leg crumbled under him and knocked him flat onto his ass. The pain pulled another curse from his lips as he clawed weakly at his shoe, throwing it at the door with a loud thud and violent rattle as it bounced away. “Open up! I know you have them! Give them back!” Guzma snarled.

Just as he was reaching for another shoe the door opened and revealed Nanu who looked rather angry, but for only a flicker of a second before the look vanished into a placid expression. “I see they got a hold of you. I think, I _think_ , I remember telling you to stay here,” Nanu said as he leaned against the doorframe, his tone holding more spice than his expression did.

“I don't give a _shit_ about what you said!” Guzma snarled as he threw his second shoe, hitting Nanu’s shin and smearing mud on his black pants, “Give them back! Give them back to me!”

Guzma blinked as his vision became blurry and started to see black spots. No. He couldn't pass out now. He needed to get them back. They were far more important than he was.

“Give you what? I have nothing of yours,” Nanu stated blandly, toeing the muddy shoe off the steps leading to the door.

“Stop lying! I know you have them!” Guzma barked, panting hard as he leaned forward, hands digging deep into the slick mud as he struggled with weak arms to move.

“I know you have them. I want them back. All of them,” Guzma wheezed as he clawed at the mud as his body began to sway back and forth, the world spinning while he was on his hands and knees.

“What do I have?” Nanu asked, undeterred by the man’s anger.

“ ** _MY POKÉMON. GIVE THEM BACK. I WANT THEM BACK!_** ” Guzma screamed until his throat was raw. Mud caked his clothes, rain soaking in until his skin was as cold as ice. Thunder boomed in his ears as lightning cracked across the sky while black spots in his vision turned into swallowing clouds.

“Guzma, I don't have your pokémon. I left them in your pockets where you had them. I would never take pokémon away from anyone,” Nanu said slowly, his red eyes suddenly full of emotion.

It was pity.

People only got that look for one reason.

Thunder screamed in Guzma's ears, causing them to ring as his eyes widened in shocked fear. Nanu didn't have them. Tears began to burn in his unblinking eyes as his heart shattered and bled. Nanu really didn't have them. Guzma's jaw ached from the pressure of clenching his teeth together as tears pours from his eyes, face twisting into a vulnerable look of despair.

They took them.

They took everything from him.

His sunglasses.

His necklace.

His watch.

His pokémon.

Everything.

Guzma screamed, his throat burning from the force as he smashed his fist into the ground repeatedly. Mud splashed onto his clothes, his face, and his hair, mixing with his blood and going unnoticed as he voiced his pain. It wasn't until his voice gave out that he stopped, left huddled into a tight ball on the ground as he wept, allowing the black clouds to consume his mind and force him to sleep as thunder rolled on, his unconscious body collapsed in the mud.


	3. Peeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments highly appreciated! (Although please no criticism except for alerting me of spelling errors or repeated words/sentences.) Enjoy!

Nanu said he had slept for three days straight. Said that he feared he’d never wake up. Guzma wished he hadn't. The doctor had checked him out yesterday and bandaged him up, even put his nose back into place, although apparently it won't look the same as before. Not that he cared. Once again he had gotten lucky, no stitches, just a lot of white bandages and cotton that covered his open wounds, same as before. While he was asleep, Nanu had to remove his clothes, which he apologized for doing, to wash as much mud and blood from them as possible. The mud was gone and so was the blood. The red X that had been painted on the skull on the back of his jacket wasn't. At least Guzma had figured out what that hissing sound was from the second attack.

Guzma's stomach growled, begging for something, anything to be inside it. He wrapped an arm around himself, curling up into a tighter ball on his side as he ignored the pain.

“Do you want something to eat? I bought some stuff you might like,” Nanu offered.

Guzma said nothing in return. He only stared at the marred symbol on his jacket as he waited to fall asleep again.

Nanu sighed as he eased himself onto the couch and was instantly swarmed by an army of meowths who pleaded for his attention. He stroked each one, dividing his attention carefully so as to keep them from fighting as he watched Guzma.

Guzma scratched at his skin under the blanket, peeling off the thick layers of mud that hadn't yet been washed off of him. His grey eyes continued to stare at his jacket, almost unblinking as he gazed at the insult to his gang. Before, the people were terrified of him and his grunts. Now they didn't give a shit about any of them. They were just scum they could walk upon. The thought alone made Guzma's teeth clench as teared up, anger pulsing in his thoughts. All that time he spent digging himself out of that position and he fell right back into it.

His sharp ears perked at the sound of feet stomping through mud and he froze. His anger quickly turned into fear as he scrambled into a sitting position, pushing himself back into the tight corner as he clutched the blanket and his knees to his chest, staring at the door with panic in his eyes.

Nanu watched his reaction, having picked up on the sound of footsteps too. He briefly wondered if he recognized them, but that would be hard to do when factoring in mud. A heavy fist banged hard on the door, the walls seeming to shake as Guzma let out a pathetic whimper, making himself even smaller as he pulled the blanket over his head. Nanu frowned as he stood up and moved towards the door, unlocking it and cracking it open.

“What?” he asked dryly.

The man at the door’s anger only grew from Nanu’s greeting as his face turned an ugly red, the two people behind him almost mimicking the look. “We know you have him in there. What kind of cop are you! That bastard nearly killed two people and you hired a doctor to bandage him up? What the fuck are you doing!” the man snapped.

“First of all, it is not your place to decide what happens to criminals, it's mine. Second, while Guzma did nearly kill them, he did so in self defense. They attacked him first, and he has the wounds to prove it. I do not believe it is fair to punish someone for protecting themselves,” Nanu retaliated.

“But that’s **_Guzma_ ** you’re talking about! He stole and terrorized Alola and destroyed a whole town! How can you be so lenient with him!” the man barked.

Nanu’s red eyes flashed as he squared his shoulders. “I am not being lenient. Guzma will spend a full year doing community service to repay the community for his actions. During that time, if anyone attacks him or steals from him, they will be dealing with not only me, but the law as well. He was already attacked again just last night and I plan to find out who did it _and_ who stole his pokémon. So, I suggest you don't come here again unless you want to be charged with harassment.” Nanu’s eyes glanced down at the man’s bandaged hand, blood staining the white cotton, before he gave the man a wicked sneer. “Also, if you _do_ have any leads as to where Guzma's pokémon are, like I suspect you have, that information would highly be appreciated. The longer they are gone, the more severe the punishment will be for whoever has them, got it? Tell everyone. I want those pokémon found,” Nanu said, his voice holding an edge of malice that caused the man to take a step back.

The man scoffed as he tried to cover his fear with rage, “I can't believe that you're sympathizing with that trash.”

“Remember what I said and _leave_. You're disturbing my meowths,” Nanu ordered.

The man growled under his breath but argued no more, leaving with his friends peacefully.

Nanu snorted as he closed the door and turned the lock, irritated by their brashness. Idiots. All of them. They never knew when to mind their own damn business.

Guzma peaked out from the blanket, allowing the fabric to fall to his shoulders as he exposed his head. “Community service? But they were right. I did almost kill those two guys,” Guzma said confused.

Nanu shrugged as he sat back down on the couch. “As I said it was in self defense. I can't punish someone for protecting their own person.”

Guzma was mildly surprised to hear that answer, but the awe was short lived. “Yet you're still going to punish me for what I did before with a full year of community service,” he stated blandly.

“Yup,” Nanu replied as he lifted a meowth into his lap.

“I’d rather die,” Guzma scoffed as he hid back under the blanket, curling into a ball as his stomach growled again.

After a few minutes of silence Guzma spoke slowly. “Are...are you really going to look for my pokémon? Golisopod and all the others?”

Nanu nodded even though Guzma couldn't see it. “Of course. They're your pokémon. It's not right for someone to take them away from you, no matter who you are.”

Guzma said nothing in return, mulling over Nanu’s words as he slowly drifted off to sleep.


	4. Cleansing Dirt

After five long days of Guzma sleeping curled up under his blanket Nanu had enough. He had barely managed to get Guzma to eat once a day, and now he refused to speak, much less poke his head out from under his blanket. Nanu had to change that or else the spiral would continue for weeks or months on end. Besides, if the people didn't see Guzma working like he promised, both of their asses were going to get burned.

Nanu tossed a plastic sack at Guzma's lumpy form, causing the man to grunt as it connected with his side. “Get up, Guzma. You have a lot of work to do today,” Nanu said as he sat on the couch.

Guzma groaned as he shuffled under the covers. He managed to create a small window as he peeked out at Nanu with a hard, yet tired, glare. “Whatever it is, _no_ ,” he grumbled, then abruptly closed the window he created.

“Get up, go take a shower, and get ready. It's not a request, it’s an order. I let you mope around long enough. Now it's time for you to do some work. So get up and let's go,” Nanu stated, undeterred by Guzma's rejection.

Resisting whimpers and resentful growls emitted from under the blanket, when with a sudden burst of anger Guzma swung the blanket aside and smashed the side of his fist against the wall, causing him to shiver as a small piece of his anger dissolved and was replaced with pain. He didn't let his own satisfaction last long as he glared at Nanu. “Why don't you just let me go? Then you won't have to worry about what _I’m_ doing and _I_ don't have to be stuck in this tiny, depressing police station with a bag of ancient bones and his fifty cats,” Guzma snarled.

Nanu was unfazed by the backlash. “I bought you some new clothes. They're in that bag. Go shower and change,” Nanu ordered.

Guzma continued to glare, his anger and hatred boiling in his stomach as he stared into Nanu’s red eyes. Nothing. No matter what he did there was never any emotion in those damn eyes. Except for pity. That only pissed him off more.

“Fine,” Guzma spat. He snatched the bag from beside him and kicked the blanket off completely. He snarled to himself as he followed Nanu's wordless directions, stomping in the direction he pointed to and opened the door, stepping inside, and slammed it as hard as he could. He was a little satisfied with the way the walls rattled in complaint.

Having never been in this side of the building before, Guzma did what any normal person would do. Snoop.

He took in the sight curiously. This had to be Nanu’s room. Obviously it used to be an old locker room made for multiple people, but it had been horribly remodeled to resemble a master bedroom. There was a wall of lockers between an unmade bed and a set of showers with short stalls with no doors or curtains. Even worse, there was a set of stalls with toilets inside each one, again with no doors. This place was obviously archaic, a ghost of the past. Guzma snorted. Pretty befitting for someone like Nanu. He continued to search through Nanu's belongings, even searched under his bed, but found nothing of value. This place had no personality as if no one even lived here. A _ghost_ had more presence than this dude had.

Guzma scoffed as he became bored, deciding to actually do what he came here to do.

Guzma walked up to the lockers and opened a door, surprised to find a plentiful stock of towels. He continued to search and found everything he needed for a shower, even an empty locker to temporarily house his clean clothes. Guzma peeled off his old clothes, nose wrinkling when he realized how awful he smelled, and kicked the offensive clothes away. He turned on the shower and when he realized it would take a while for the old pipes to warm up he turned his attention back to the room. He had honestly expected at least _something_ in the room to hold personal value. Nothing in here seemed like it even belonged to someone, or that it even should. No pictures. No books. No tv. No videos, games, toys, or anything. Not so much as a letter written to a loved one or from a loved one. It was kind of...pathetic? Scary? Depressing? Guzma wasn't sure what it made him feel. Guzma didn't exactly own anything himself, since everything he owned had been stolen, but at least he made it his own. His clothes became his signature look. Po Town was riddled with his insignia and full of color and life by his gang. It was obvious that someone or _something_ lived there. Not here. This place was empty through and through.

Guzma shivered as goosebumps spread across his flesh. He frowned as he rubbed his arm to smooth the bumps away and stepped into the shower after testing the water one last time.

As Guzma bathed he mulled over the strange room, finishing his shower as he formed questions to ask later. He shut off the water and dried off quickly, feeling spooked by the cold air chilling his skin in this atmosphere. Once he was fully dry he grabbed a second towel and draped it over his wet hair as he dug through his fresh clothes and groaned.

“Of course. Why wouldn't he get something to humiliate me?” he grumbled.

At least the black and navy striped boxer briefs and dark tank top were in his taste. The salazzle print shorts and pink kerchief, however, were not. At least not something he would allow to be seen in public. He had an image to protect, after all. Guzma's mood soured. The only image he had to protect was one people already looked down on and beat up. He wasn't doing so hot in the popularity department. Guzma growled as he slammed the locker closed and began pulling on the new clothes, feeling uncomfortable with how clingy each article was. He glanced down at his legs and sighed in relief. At least the shorts were long enough to cover what he needed when he pulled them down his hips a bit. He finished drying his hair with the towel until it was almost completely dry and then tied the kerchief around his head to hold his hair out of his eyes.

Guzma caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror and he paused. It had been a while since he had looked at himself and even longer since he had seen himself in anything besides his black and baggy uniform.

He looked like shit.

Guzma winced at the sight of his face. His eyes were no longer swollen, but the bruising around his eyes were from more than just insomnia. His lips had been split in the same spot, a long red scab healing across them and threatening to become a scar. His cheeks held less sever scabs and scratches, but his nose was awful. It was still hidden under a large cotton bandage but bruises crawled from beneath and the shape of the bridge only confirmed the doctor's words. His nose was never going to look the same. There was either going to be a big notch in the middle or it would be crooked. He didn't know which he prefered.

Guzma sighed, his mood plummeting again as he slunk out of the bathroom quietly.

“You happy now?” Guzma grumbled as he came back into the room, eyes downcast as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.

Nanu looked up from his coffee and raised his brows in mute surprise. “I didn't know you had tattoos, besides the ones on your forearms, that is,” Nanu said as he set his coffee aside.

Guzma blushed lightly, becoming self conscious as his hands moved to cover his decorated biceps, not that it really helped. His shoulders, part of his back, and his chest were also covered in intricate purple designs. Bits and pieces of the real world were mixed in with the decorative ink, which is why he prefered to have them covered. He got the tattoos for his own comfort, not to show off. “Yeah, I had it done a long time ago. Before I was legally allowed to. Well, I started working on it then, anyways. Had to get them done over time when I could find the money to do it,” Guzma said with a shrug.

Nanu stared at the tattoos a few moments longer before he stood up, taking his coffee with him and pouring it into the sink. “You ready to work?” Nanu asked.

“I would prefer not to,” Guzma replied.

“There's a lot of things in this world people would rather not do, but it still has to be done,” Nanu shrugged as he cleaned out the mug.

“I’m pretty sure those are the exact words my mom said before she got pregnant with me. Or before she gave birth to me. Whichever one looks more pathetic,” Guzma remarked.

“Be that as it may, you have work to do. Grab that bucket and follow me,” Nanu said with a passive wave of his hand and a jerk of his head.

Guzma glanced down at the red plastic bucket by his feet and groaned when he saw the cleaning supplies inside. This was going to suck. He picked up the bucket and followed Nanu slowly, dragging his feet reluctantly as they headed to Po Town. He should've felt excited about seeing his old home, but there was nothing left for him there.It was emptier than Nanu’s room. Also, he was being taken there as a prisoner. It's not like he was actually going out of his own wishes.

Once they were past the gates Guzma dropped his supplies, not even caring about where they rolled to as he glared at Nanu. “Alright old man, why are we here?” he demanded.

“I thought it was obvious. Your punishment is community service. You’re going to clean and rebuild the town you destroyed. To start off, you’re going to scrub the street clean of any graffiti you and your gang left behind,” Nanu said as he dusted off a nearby rock and sat down.

Guzma's eyes grew large. “What the fuck, you’re serious? You want me to remove my own gang's insignia and work? That's like removing their existence! I’m not gonna do that old man!” Guzma snapped incredulously, kicking a large bottle of soap into the bushes for good measure.

Nanu stared at him blankly before pulling out a plastic red and blue gun, cocking it, and pulling the trigger. At the speed of light a white dot launched from the barrel and smacked hard into Guzma's bare leg.

“Mother fucking _shit_! What the hell was that!” Guzma howled as he recoiled from the pain, rubbing the now red skin as he hopped on one leg.

“Marshmallow gun. It's here to influence you. Now get to work. There's a lot to be done,” Nanu said as he leaned back against a tree.

Guzma glared as he grumbled under his breath while he collected his cleaning supplies and got to work. After connecting a hose to a house and filling up his bucket with soapy water he sprayed down the area he was going to start, tossing the hose aside when he was finished. He stared down at the black paint, emotions mixing uncomfortably in his stomach as they filled his throat while he reminisced over the skull painted at his feet. It was the first thing they had done when they took over the town. With his own hands he claimed the town with this exact mark. He ground his teeth as his anger pounded in his aching head while tears burned in his eyes. Now that mark meant nothing. Everything he built meant _nothing_.

Guzma dropped to his knees and began scrubbing the stone with a bristled cleaning brush, trying to ignore the surge of emotions that washed over him as he did so. Bit by bit the paint slowly peeled away, causing him to hiccup as his tears finally spilled over. He was angry more than anything else, but apparently all of his emotions were tied to his tear ducts. Once all traces of the skull were gone he moved onto the next tag, scrubbing faster and wiping the tears from his eyes when he saw Nanu move to a new location to watch his progress as the sun shined down on both of them. That pattern continued until late into the night. His back ached. His arms were heavy and sluggish. Every breath was a struggle, and the water and food Nanu had brought wasn't nearly enough to fill him.

“That's enough for today. You got half way through and that's more progress than I expected,” Nanu said.

Guzma collapsed eagerly, laying on his back as he panted from his hard work as he set the cleaning brush aside. Nanu placed the plastic gun behind his back and tucked it under his belt before he started gathering everything to place back into the bucket, then turned off the hose and dumped the water. He grabbed the bucket with one hand and with the other he held it out to Guzma who still laid on the ground. “C’mon. You can lean on me on the way back,” Nanu offered.

In an opportunity to defy Nanu, Guzma planned to refuse, but he was too exhausted to make it on his own. With a halfhearted roll of his eyes Guzma weakly placed his hand in Nanu’s and allowed himself to be pulled onto his feet, surprised by the other man's strength. Nanu pulled Guzma close to his side, wrapping his arm around Guzma's waist as the young man tossed an arm over his shoulders, leaning heavily against him as they started walking back.

“You worked hard today. I’m proud of you. You did a great job,” Nanu offered after a few minutes of silence.

Guzma merely grunted in reply, but Nanu didn't miss the light blush on Guzma's cheeks or the way he shivered from the praise. Guzma himself noticed too and tried his hardest to push the fluttery feelings away.

“What do you want to eat? I have just about everything back at the station. Or would you prefer I went out and got something?” Nanu asked.

“Whatever. ‘M not very picky,” Guzma shrugged, hissing from the pain in his shoulders.

“Sorry for not bringing enough food for lunch. I didn't expect you to eat much,” Nanu said honestly.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. ‘M surprised you brought any food at all,” Guzma said dismissively.

Nanu's brows furrowed at his words.

They continued to walk in silence, both of them comfortable with that decision until they were back inside the police station. Nanu toed the door shut and set the cleaning supplies on the floor before walking Guzma over to the couch and easing him down onto the cushions.

“I’m going to get you some water and then see what’s fast that I can make for us. Here,” Nanu said as he handed Guzma the remote.

Surprised by his kindness but too tired to react Guzma merely grunted once again as he took the remote and began flipping through channels to find something to watch. Nanu came back with a large cup of water and raised his brow at Guzma's decision.

“Pokémon Recovery?” Nanu asked with a faint twitch to the corners of his lips.

Guzma frowned. “What? It's the only thing you got. What's wrong with it?”

“A show about taking abused pokémon and training them to be good and loved doesn't exactly sound like something you would be into,” Nanu shrugged.

“And why do you think that?” Guzma snorted as he took a drink.

Nanu's eyebrow arched higher as all signs of a smile disappeared. “Because of your history of stealing pokémon from families and giving them to Lusamine,” he replied.

Guzma bristled as he glared defensively at Nanu. “Hey, I didn't give ‘em all to her! It was only a few and I didn't know what she was really doing with ‘em. I was only her supplier, don't mean I actually believed or agreed with what she was doing,” Guzma grumbled as he lowered his eyes to the glass.

“Then why did you help her? You didn't share the same views as her, so I don't understand why you would do what you did,” Nanu said.

“Back off, will ya? I don't have to explain my life choices to you,” Guzma growled.

“Guzma, I just want to know why you-.” Nanu was silenced by a wave of cold water splashing his face. He blinked water from his lashes as he looked at Guzma who glared at him with heated eyes, the glass in his hand tilted and dripping its last drops of water onto the floor.

Nanu sighed as he held up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’ll leave you alone. I apologize for intruding. I’ll go make dinner,” Nanu said as he walked away.

Guzma glared as he watched him go before he sighed and sank deep into the couch, kicking off his shoes and setting his glass aside as he watched the show.

After an episode went by Nanu came back with two bowls of heavenly smelling miso ramen soup with pakchoi and beautifully poached eggs. Guzma hadn't actually expected Nanu to be a cook. He took his bowl with a grunt of thanks before he dug in, devouring his food with a moan. He _really_ hadn't expected Nanu to be this good of a cook. Nanu smirked lightly as he watched Guzma eat before he sat down at the table and ate his food in a slower fashion, both of them entranced by the stories of pokémon on TV.

After their bellies were full five episodes later they both had become sleepy. Guzma struggled to keep his eyes opened as he yawned, glancing over at Nanu who took the gun out from his belt and set it on the table, reminding the delinquent of a question that had been on his mind all day.

“Hey geezer, why’d you bring a fake gun and not yer real one?” he slurred through another yawn.

“Don’t have a real gun,” Nanu shrugged.

Guzma quirked a brow. “Yer a cop, aren't’cha? Shouldn't you have a gun?”

Nanu shrugged. “I’m more of a...self appointed officer. Besides, I’m not really allowed to own a gun,” Nanu said honestly as he slipped out of his chair.

“Why not?” Guzma asked.

“My mental state isn't secure enough for me to have the responsibility of carrying a weapon to protect others and myself,” Nanu stated.

Guzma frowned. That wasn't Nanu speaking. He was quoting someone. Someone important.

“What do you mea-.”

“Goodnight, Guzma,” Nanu said as he turned off the lights. Without another word he disappeared into his room and left Guzma alone.

Guzma frowned as he stared at Nanu's door. Mental state? What did that mean? Did Nanu lose his temper easy? Has he killed someone before? Or…

Guzma shook his head and turned off the TV. He peeled off his clothes as he stumbled in the dark to his cot, plopping underneath the covers in only his underwear. He stared up at the black ceiling as he folding his arms behind his head, mulling over Nanu's words as he fell asleep.


	5. Burned

Nanu groaned as he forced himself to wake up. It was almost nine, they had slept in way too late. He didn't know why but his body was so sore and oddly hot, but the air felt fine. He could be sick, but he doubted it. Yesterday had been too nice and sunny out for him to have gotten sick. He was actually surprised by how nice the weather was in Po Town. It usually rained constantly there. No matter what it was he still had to get up. With a grunt Nanu pushed himself into a sitting position and then onto his feet. Still only in his white t-shirt and boxers he sleepily stumbled into the living room to wake up Guzma as he turned on the lights.

“Time to get up, Guzma. We slept in,” Nanu yawned, tears forming in his tired eyes.

“Fuck off. ‘M not goin’ nowhere,” Guzma grumbled, voice muffled under his blanket.

Nanu rolled his eyes and began toeing Guzma's hip. “Come on. Get up,” he ordered.

Suddenly, Guzma tossed his blanket aside to glare at Nanu, exposing his unevenly toasted and peeling body. “Bitch you got me sunburned yesterday. **I’m. Not. Going** ,” Guzma growled.

Nanu stared at Guzma's body and then glanced down at his own arms. He was burnt too. “Oh.”

Guzma growled and pulled the covers back over his head with an embarrassed huff.

After they mutually and wordlessly decided to stay home Nanu cooked them breakfast, which they once again ate while watching Pokémon Recovery, and when they were done Nanu disappeared into his room for a moment and came back with a large bottle of aloe vera gel and a bottle of painkillers.

“Turn around and I’ll get your back and shoulders for you,” Nanu said as he sat down beside Guzma.

“Yeah, I think no?” Guzma said as he scooted away with a revolted expression.

“Can you put this on your back by yourself? Because if you can then I won't bother helping you,” Nanu said with a bit of bite to his words.

Guzma turned his eyes away, mumbling curses to himself as he turned his back to Nanu, inviting him to help.

“Thank you,” Nanu said as he set both bottles down and filled his hand with a healthy dose of aloe vera.

Guzma jumped as he felt cold and calloused hands rest on his shoulders and shivered as they slowly worked the gel into his burnt skin. He couldn't help but blush from Nanu's touch. People never really get cozy with him, not that he would broadcast to the whole world that he wanted attention. He had always been a bit touch starved. Even his own parents hardly gave him any love. Guzma’s brows furrowed. It had been a while since he had thought about them.

“Your shoulders are really tense,” Nanu observed.

“Okay, let's try our hardest to keep this from sounding like a bad gay porno, alright?” Guzma said as his shoulders hardened further.

Nanu rolled his eyes, a reaction that he feared was going to be given every time the other man spoke. “I was merely making an observation and _hoping_ that you would supply me with an answer as to _why_ you are tense. Not compare our situation to a _bad gay porno_. That statement, by the way, stings a little,” Nanu replied.

Despite himself Guzma found himself snickering at the man's response. “You want me to spill my whole life story to you? And why did that sting? It's honest. You got one dude rubbing liquid on another man's skin, making comments that lead to a massage, which leads to sex,” Guzma said.

Nanu chuckled as he pumped more aloe vera into his hand and rubbed it carefully onto Guzma's back. “You seem to be quite knowledgeable on this topic,” Nanu said with the beginnings of a smirk.

Guzma blushed as he began to pout. “Shut it. Like you’ve never been curious about gay porn.”

“I’ve never been curious. I’ve always known what I like,” Nanu shrugged.

Guzma blinked and glanced over his shoulder. “You're gay?”

“No, but I’m not straight. I like women too,” Nanu said honestly, unfazed by the question.

“Oh.”

Guzma traced over the peeling skin on his thighs with his eyes and wrung his hands before he spoke again. “Same...same for me,” he mumbled.

Nanu hummed as his hand moved along Guzma's skin. “Is that why you have this?” he asked as his finger pressed on a large, raised scar hidden among his tattoos.

Guzma gasped from the touch and whirled around, striking Nanu’s side. Nanu grunted from the hit but otherwise acted unfazed.

“Don't touch that! It's none of your business!” Guzma barked with a snarl.

Nanu searched his grey eyes, spotting fear and reluctance deep in his rage filled irises and nodded to show that he would drop it. “Sorry. I shouldn't have asked,” Nanu admitted.

Guzma snorted angrily to himself as he turned back around, allowing Nanu to continue his work. After a few minutes Guzma was calm once again which gave him the opportunity to be nosy. “I didn’t expect someone as old as you to watch porn,” Guzma said, his tone far too curious to come off as a sneer like he wanted.

“I’ve seen it. Growing up, friends of mine would sneak them to my house during sleep overs and stuff. I never really cared for it. I’d rather just use my own imagination or actually have sex than watch porn,” Nanu replied.

“Why? Too dirty for you?” Guzma jeered.

Nanu chuckled. “That's definitely not a problem. The stuff they did just seemed...a little over the top and improbable.”

“Yer one of those ‘makes love’ kinda guys, aren't you?” Guzma asked.

“No. Sex is sex. It can be done with or without love and it can be soft or hard. Doesn't really matter. I just hate the noise girls make when they give blowjobs,” Nanu said with a disgusted shiver.

Guzma snickered as he shook his head. “Yeah the gagging can be pretty gross. I mean, I’m all about someone goin’ down on me but the moment they gag we’re stoppin’ because I don't want that noise to turn into something worse,” he replied.

“Ugh, agreed,” Nanu said as he filled his hand with more aloe vera, “I just have your neck, some of your sides, and your face too if you want me to do that for you. It's kinda hard to put it on yourself when you have all those wounds.”

“Yeah, thanks. That’d be great,” Guzma nodded, shivering again when the cold aloe vera was applied to his neck.

They sat in silence once again. Guzma picked at the loose skin around his fingers and tore at his nails as he struggled to come up with something else to say. Or, at least, the polite way to phrase it.

“Old man…,” Guzma started, continuing when he heard Nanu hum in reply, “What did...what did you mean last night about your mental state? Why won't they let you have a gun?”

Nanu was silent for a few more moments before he sighed, relenting into the question as he pulled his hands away from Guzma's neck.

“While in highschool I was diagnosed with major depression disorder. It was hard growing up with it, but with therapy and my medication I was able to push through and live with little to no incidents. However, during my career I lost my mother and father in a car accident and I had a complete relapse. I was able to dig myself out of that hole thanks to my partner, but it took me years to even function without the help of someone else. The force noticed how reckless I was with my self safety and they held an interview with my partner and...they took my gun and badge and never gave it back,” Nanu said.

Guzma digested Nanu's words as his temper grew and he turned to look at Nanu. “Wait, your _partner_ advised for you to get kicked off the force? Your partner stabbed you in the back like that and ya didn't even get mad? I would’a torn them apart! What kind of shithead does that to their friend!”

“No, he was right for doing that. Believe me, I hated him for what he did, at the time, but it was the right decision. I would have killed myself with that gun if they hadn't taken it from me. And I was so consumed in my depression that I couldn't fulfill my duties, nor could I heal. I’m thankful for what my partner did for me. It hurt at the time, but he did what was best,” Nanu said with a faint smile.

Guzma shook his head, refusing the answer. “He took your job, man! You can't honestly tell me that you got better from that! Not with the way you act all the time, there's no way,” Guzma argued.

The smile on Nanu’s face disappeared as he sighed. “I haven't gotten better, not really. You're right about that. However, that’s because I spent every penny I had to give my parents a proper burial. I’ve had no money to find a psychiatrist and I haven't taken antidepressants in almost thirty years, but I’m no where as bad as I was. I haven't been suicidal in a while and at that time I was lucky to be alive.”

Guzma snorted as he turned his head away. “You’re too lenient. You let people walk all over you.”

“Like you and Lusamine?” Nanu offered.

Guzma glared at him. “You really ain't gonna move off that, are you?”

Nanu shrugged as he grabbed Guzma's chin and motioned for him to face him. “You don't have to tell me, but I’m just as curious about your life as I am about yours,” Nanu replied.

Guzma became silent as Nanu began rubbing the gel on his face. He didn't owe Nanu an explanation. Of course...Nanu didn't owe him anything either. Guzma sighed as his body began to relax under Nanu's touch. “What do you want to know?” he mumbled.

“Why did you partner up with Lusamine?” Nanu asked as he paused in his actions.

Guzma swallowed thickly as he looked away. He really didn't want to answer that question.

Nanu's features became soft as he tilted his head in concern. He grabbed Guzma's chin and and gently turned his face back to his so he could search Guzma's tired eyes.

“Did you love her?” Nanu asked.

Guzma's nose wrinkled at the question which pulled a curse from his lips as his healing nose throbbed in dull pain. “Ow, that’s smarts. No, I didn't love her. She's beautiful, but not my type at all. She...she just saw me differently than other people did,” Guzma said slowly.

“Differently how?”

“She...I’ve always seemed like a bad kid. A no good boastful brat that wouldn't amount to anything. Lusamine...she didn't see that in me. She saw how powerful I was. She could see that I had _talent_ and that I wasn't just something to be thrown away. That meant...everything to me. Of course, becoming her partner came at a price. She saw my talent, but so did my gang, and I never understood that they saw that. I always thought that their praise was faked beacuase they were scared of me. Lusamine eventually tossed me away like everyone else did and now my gang is gone and...now I’m just the trash everyone saw me as. No value as a human being. No worth as a trainer. No pokémon. No real reason to live. Just...garbage,” Guzma confessed, smiling to himself with dark amusement.

“Guzma…you have a reason to live,” Nanu murmured.

“No, old man, I don't. I _did_ have a reason. I had a _great_ purpose in the world. I was going to be the _best_ pokémon bug captain in all of Alola history. _That_ was my reason for living. It's the only thing in life I ever wanted...and the only thing I could ever reach,” Guzma said as his mood soured and his open hands turned into fists, “But I failed. I wasn't good enough. I was _never_ good enough. I had been lying to myself for so long...I never had a chance. I was squashed like a _bug_ during my trials. I failed miserably. I failed everyone who believed in me...and I lost my reason to live.”

“Now I only live because I’m scared of dying,” Guzma laughed humorlessly, “But that's not always the case. Some days I just hate myself so much for being so fucking _pathetic_ that I don't hold back and try to crack open my skull on whatever's nearby. It scared the shit out of Plumeria and the grunts every time I did it...but it felt _so_ _good_ to feel that close to death. It hurt...but at least it was _physical_. It felt...it felt amazing every time and it was the only way I could think clearly and escape, y’know? It...it was the only way to help.”

He hadn't meant to tell the old man so much. He hadn't meant to tell anyone anything. Nanu was just really good at seeming invisible that he just spilled everything as if Nanu wasn't even there.

Nanu searched Guzma's face before he returned to applying aloe vera to the young man's cheeks. “Well, I guess that explains the scar on your forehead,” Nanu said softly.

Guzma snorted as he smirked at the old man. “Yeah. That was a particularly nasty day. I was bleeding so bad they thought I was gonna die. Too bad I’m not that lucky,” Guzma shrugged.

“Dying isn't lucky, Guzma. You're lucky to be alive. It's not inspiring, but it's the truth. Life is hard,” Nanu admitted.

“Then why bother living? No one likes to struggle to live. I don't _want_ to struggle to live. I _want_ to be happy. I _want_ to be healthy. I want _basic necessities of life_ but I just can't have it without losing my mind! So what's the point!” Guzma argued.

“You have to live for _yourself_ , Guzma. That's why you're struggling. At least part of it,” Nanu said urgently, holding Guzma's chin again to make him listen, “You’re living to be what other people want. _You can't do that_. It's _killing_ you to live that way. Whatever your family, your friends, the people of this town, or I want you to be...you can't become that because that's what we want. You have to live the way you want to. You have to be who you want to be. Don't live to impress other people and make them love you. Live to impress yourself and _love yourself_. That is life, Guzma. Your own life is for yourself. You have to use that time to make yourself into what you want to be and love people and things you want to love. You just...you can't live for other people. You’ll never be happy that way.”

Guzma stared wide eyed at Nanu as his words sank in. Live for himself? _Love_ himself? Guzma pulled his chin from Nanu's hand and carefully pushed him out of the way as he took the bottle and avoided Nanu’s gaze. “I can do the rest myself,” Guzma mumbled as he left the couch to squat on his tiny cot alone.

Nanu watched him, opening his mouth to argue, before he sighed, his red eyes filling with loss as he stood up. “Sorry. I’ll be in my room,” he murmured before disappearing.

Guzma’s eyes glanced up from his burnt legs to where Nanu last stood. His grey eyes filled with sorrow as he forced himself to look back down at his legs and began squirting large amounts of aloe vera on his skin.

Love himself? How could he ever do that? What about him was worth loving? Guzma recalled the look in Nanu’s eyes and his heart suddenly clenched in pain. Did Nanu actually care about him? Did he really want to see him...happy? _Why_?

As he continued applying the gel to his skin Guzma couldn't help but form questions as he thought about Nanu’s words and the look in his eyes. He had never seen someone look at him that way before. Except maybe Plumeria and a few of the grunts, but those looks were only fleeting. There was only one person who ever looked at him like that and it was-.

Guzma swallowed as he set the bottle aside. “Kukui,” he whispered.

Fuck.

Guzma climbed to his feet and snatched the bottle of aloe vera as he walked up to Nanu’s door, pausing before he knocked on the wood.

“Guzma?” Nanu asked from the other side of the door, sounding confused.

Guzma cleared his throat as he dropped his eyes to the ground, twisting the bottle in his hands. “Yeah, um...I’m done with the gel stuff. Do...do you need any help putting it on?”


	6. Starting Over

Due to their injuries Nanu decided to let them both heal by staying inside. However by the third day inside they found themselves completely out of food due to Guzma's massive appetite. After a small breakfast Nanu left with a brief goodbye to Guzma and headed towards the nearest grocery store. Unexpectedly, Guzma soon found himself bored and—oddly enough, lonely. He flipped through countless channels and watched as much as he could bare before his mind went numb. He even found a brush and groomed each meowth until he nearly filled a garbage bag full of fur. He was still bored, but at least he had some new friends.

After three hours passed he couldn't take it anymore. He had to do something. He couldn't just sit here and wait for Nanu to come back like he was some _housewife_. His grey eyes flickered over to Nanu's bedroom door. He began to chew on his lip as the meowths played by his feet and purred for his attention, but he didn't listen. He was entranced by the old white door. That room had been so bare...but he felt like there had to be _something_ hidden in there that could explain just a _little piece_ of Nanu’s life. A meowth rubbed against his burnt leg but he didn't even flinch as he started tearing at his nails, still debating on whether or not to go in.

With a groan he stood up and walked briskly to the door and opened it, holding his breath as he looked inside the room. It looked the same as before. Empty, lonely, and belonging to a silent ghost, but there _had_ to be more. Guzma slipped inside the room and closed the door behind him to keep himself from tripping over meowths desperate for his attention. He glanced around nervously before moving quickly over to the lockers. He opened each one and searched it through and through. He almost gave up after the third locker full of clothes, but then suddenly paused as he reached into the pile of folded shirts, nearly gasping when his fingers brushed over a smooth surface. His excitement skyrocketed, but then quickly plummeted.

“ _Please_...don't let this be a dildo,” he begged the heavens before he pulled out the smooth object.

Guzma tilted his head curiously. It was a picture frame. A nice mahogany frame with thick protective glass holding a picture of a little girl with purple hair snuggling with a phantump. His eyes squinted as he stared harder at the picture. The kid couldn't be more than two but she...looked familiar? Was she his daughter? A friends daughter? Was he old enough to be a grandfather? Nanu seemed to live a severely secluded life so he was surprised to even find a picture of another human being. A meowth, yes, but a human? Guzma took one last look at the picture before he slipped it back between the shirts and continued to search. He didn't find much else except for a locker he neglected to inspect yesterday. It was filled with a few daily toiletries such as pills for allergies and a comb, but it also held a few books, a journal, and an old handheld twenty questions electronic game. The books were mostly classics. Stuff that was forced onto kids in high school that Guzma never bothered to read. However, he did peak at one novel he hadn't recognized and read a single line on the first page and immediately stuffed it back into the locker after all the blood in his body rushed to his cheeks. Once he gained some courage and recovered from the book, he cracked open the journal, only to find it empty and unused. So, once again, he found pretty much bupkis.

The meows on the other side of the door had turned into shrieks, the sound desperate and annoying enough to make Guzma scoff and close the locker door. “Alright, alright, I’m coming back. We’ll watch TV and I’ll give attention to all of you,” Guzma said as he shook his head and opened the bedroom door. He was immediately swarmed by fluffy paws and sharp claws, to which he cursed at when they dug into his skin, and slowly shuffled over to the couch and sat down, his lap and sides piled high with the cat-like creatures. Guzma huffed and turned on the TV, thankful to find that Pokémon Recovery was back on. After two episodes passed Guzma became concerned. It had been forever since Nanu had left. Shouldn't he be back by now? Guzma shook the thought from his head. Worrying about a cop? Really? Had he stooped that low that he was going to fret over the safety of his enemy? Of course...Nanu wasn't really an enemy. He could have kicked his ass out of Po Town long ago but Nanu never did. Then again, that was a time when Guzma had his golisopod.

Before he could develop that thought any further the lock on the door suddenly popped and the handle jiggled, causing Guzma’s heart to lurch as he quickly prayed that it was Nanu.

“Sorry for the wait. Ran into some trouble along the way,” Nanu said as he walked in with multiple rustling bags on his arms as he closed the door behind him.

Guzma let out a quiet sigh. It was just Nanu, not someone who wanted to kill him. It was both a relief and a bit disappointing. “I thought you were dead. I would’a called the cops but...well you are the cops,” Guzma said with a snicker and a wicked grin as he watched Nanu wobble into the the “kitchen” with the heavy bags.

“Ha ha. I’m _dying_ from laughter,” Nanu replied sarcastically.

Guzma barked a laugh in reply, scaring away the meowth that had been lying nearby.

Nanu set the bags on the table and paused upon seeing the bag of cat hair by the trash bin. “Did you brush my meowths?” Nanu asked curiously.

Guzma shrugged as he continued to watch TV, “I was bored. Needed to do somethin’.”

The elder man raised a brow at his words but said nothing in return. He put away the groceries in silence, and it wasn't until he began cooking that Guzma spoke again.

“So what's the trouble you ran into?” he asked.

“Injured pokémon,” Nanu said as he pulled out a pan from below the stove and paused to dig in his pocket, “Which reminds me, this is for you.”

Guzma jumped as he scrambled to catch the pokéball that had been thrown his way. After he shot a dirty look at Nanu for suprising him, he glanced down at the object in his hands and froze. His heart began to beat rapidly in his chest as he brushed his thumb over the smooth black and yellow surface. “Nanu...is this…,” his throat tightened and he was unable to continue.

“It's not a replacement for what you lost...but I figured that a pokémon trainer would need pokémon. Plus, that pokémon needs someone to look after it and I figured that it would be a great task for you to perform as a community service,” Nanu replied.

Guzma's heart plummeted. So it wasn't one of his. Knowing that was heartbreaking, but he didn't dare let that emotion be known. With a shaking breath he released the button on the ultra ball and watched the pokémon within burst free in a blinding light.

A little yellow cutiefly chirped in confusion as it glanced around its surroundings before its gaze landed on Guzma who watched him with a gasping mouth while the ultra ball fell from his hand onto the couch. The cutiefly’s nose was bent downwards, creating a notch in the bridge that resembled the way Guzma's nose was supposed to heal, but otherwise it seemed just like any other cutiefly.

“I know he may not be very big or tough like the pokémon you're used to, but I figured that having a bug type would-.”

“He’s perfect,” Guzma interrupted in awe.

Nanu paused in surprise from his words and watched Guzma interact with his new pokémon.

Guzma held out a finger to the cutiefly with his eyes sparkling with love as he spoke softly, “Hey there little guy. How are you doin’, buddy?”

The cutiefly slowly perched on Guzma's fingertip but kept its wings prepared for lift off. Its antennas wiggled as a black tongue slipped from its snout to give Guzma a testing lick. The action caused Guzma to grin from ear to ear as he struggled to hold in his squeal.

“Holy shit little dude! You are so cute!” Guzma cooed.

The cutiefly snorted angrily at the term as he puffed up to make himself look bigger and stronger. Guzma could only snicker in reply.

“Aw, c’mon man, you don't have to play tough like that. Bein’ called cute is a good thing even for a manly bug such as yourself,” Guzma said as he brushed down the fur with his other finger.

The cutiefly snorted again, lifting his nose into the air as he turned away from Guzma, but allowed for the petting and praise to continue.

“Proud little dude, ain't’cha?” Guzma chuckled as he continued to stroke the pokémon’s fur.

Nanu smiled softly to himself before he wiped the look from his face and continued to prepare lunch. “We think he was attacked by another pokémon. He was beat up pretty bad when I found him. He healed up nicely except for his nose, but it shouldn't cause him any problems,” Nanu explained.

“Oh yeah? Were you gettin’ scrappy out there, little dude? I bet you were trying to take on the baddest pokémon of all of Alola, weren't you?” Guzma purred. The cutiefly chirped with an affirmative nod as the fur around his chest puffed out bravely. Guzma snickered again as he stroked the cutiefly’s cheek with his fingertip. “You’re pretty awesome, little guy. Do you wanna be my pokémon?” Guzma asked seriously.

The cutiefly’s eyes raked over Guzma a few times before he chirped and nodded, causing Guzma to grin from ear to ear. “That’s my little man! Now, are you hungry?” Guzma asked.

The cutiefly nodded eagerly and Guzma smiled in return as he stood up. “Alright, I think the old man has some extra beans layin’ around. Yo geezer, got any of those rainbow beans?” Guzma asked as he moved into the kitchen and rustled through a cabinet.

“Rainbow beans?” Nanu quirked a brow as he asked, “You know those are expensive and rare, right?”

“Oh please, like an old man like you with fifty meowths wouldn't have a bag full of that shit,” Guzma scoffed as he moved to the next cabinet.

Nanu sighed, relenting as he paused in his cooking and opened a cabinet below to expose his collection of beans. “Alright, how many you want?” Nanu asked.

Guzma glanced at the cutiefly who chirped and wiggled his antennae. “Two,” Guzma replied as he held out his hand eagerly.

Nanu dropped two rainbow beans into Guzma's hand and went back to cooking as the gang leader moved back to the couch and sat down as he started feeding his new pokémon.

Guzma watched for a moment as the cutiefly ate, admiring how cute it was, before he turned his eyes to Nanu. The old man wore the same expression every day: exhausted and overdrawn. Nanu’s hands juggled between ingredients and multiple pans with ease, his movements smooth and refined as he prepared their meal. Guzma had seen Nanu walk from time to time by his territory and noticed that he never had any trouble getting around, the only problem Nanu really had was his constant slouching. Even with his silver hair, Guzma would have never thought that Nanu was very old. Guzma's teeth sank into his bottom lip as he thought about the picture he had found. That girl looked familiar, but he still couldn't place the face. Not that he regularly tried to remember other people, much less their names. The photo was old, though. Maybe she was his daughter. Maybe he lost her when she was young or they no longer spoke. The possibilities were endless and only fueled Guzma's curiosity.

“Hey old man, can I ask you a question?” Guzma asked.

The pan screeched as it was adjusted over the old burner. “Only as long as I can ask one in return.”

“What? Why?” Guzma asked, revolted by the thought of _sharing_.

Nanu’s red eyes slid over to Guzma before they flickered back down to the food. “It's fair. You ask me a question, I ask one back. Keeps us on even grounds,” Nanu shrugged.

“What if I refuse to answer the question you ask me? Guzma asked as the cutiefly pawed at his hand for more food, to which he willingly gave up.

“We each have one opportunity to pass on a question and have it replaced with another, but we have to answer the second question asked. We can only pass once per day,” Nanu explained. The wooden spoon scrapped along the bottom of the pan.

Guzma digested his words before rolling his eyes and scoffing. “Okay, fine, whatever. So can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Nanu said with a shrug.

“I was looking through the lockers and I found a picture of a little purple haired girl. Who is she to you?” Guzma asked bluntly.

Nanu hummed. “I’m surprised you didn't recognize her. It’s a picture of Acerola when she was two. I haven't gotten a recent picture of her yet, but I have some coming in the mail soon so I set the old one aside,” Nanu said.

“Acerola? Isn't that the ghost captain? Why do you have her picture?” Guzma asked confused.

Nanu paused to give Guzma a weird look. “She's my niece. I thought everyone knew that.”

“Your niece!” Guzma exclaimed. He blinked as his eyes began to peel back the thick layers of age from Nanu's face, trying to picture his youth as his hair bled into a familiar purple shade. Guzma wrinkled his nose. That looked awful.

“Yes. Although, not by blood. Acerola is an orphan,” Nanu shrugged.

“Oh. Ooooohhhhhhh. That makes sense. Sort of. Why does she call you uncle?” Guzma asked with a tilt of his head.

“She said I wasn't father material and too old to be a dad.”

Guzma winced. “Ouch.”

“No, she didn't mean it in a bad way. She only meant that I wasn't disciplinary like a father and more like a fun older uncle,” Nanu said as he turned off the burners with a snap.

“Oh.” Guzma turned his head away to watch the cutiefly pick a fight with a meowth. His little feet pelting the meowth’s head as it dove down upon it and soared away before the meowth could retaliate. Guzma smirked as Nanu plated their food. “Don't worry man, someone’ll call ya daddy someday.”

Nanu didn't even look up as he retaliated. “How do you know they haven't?”

Guzma burst into an unexpected laughter. He squeezed his sides as tears sprang into his eyes while his legs kicked wildly in front of him until his lungs ached from a laughter he hadn't felt in years. At least, laughter he hadn't felt in sarcasm.

Very softly Nanu smiled in return as he set their plates on the table, the smile vanishing by the time he was seated, “Food’s ready.”

“Good. I'm starved,” Guzma groaned as he stood up climbed into the seat across from Nanu and practically inhaled his food before he was fully seated.

Nanu looked mildly alarmed at his process, watching Guzma eat for a few moments to make sure that the young man didn't swallow his fork before he started eating his own food at a much slower and docile pace.

“Mmm-mm! Not to compliment you or anything, but you're pretty good at this whole cooking thing,” Guzma said as he slipped out of his chair to get seconds.

Nanu snorted, smiling faintly. “Thanks, but flattery won't keep me from asking my question.”

Guzma smirked warily in return. “Heh, worth a shot. So...what do you want to ask?” He scooped heavy amounts of food onto his plate, more so than usual, Nanu noted to himself. Guzma was anxious about what he was going to ask. Luckily he had nothing to fret about. This time. “It's not a big deal, just something I found interesting,” Nanu said as he waved his hand as if to dismiss his worries. “I only wondered why you asked that cutiefly to be your pokémon. Is that something you normally do?”

Guzma sighed in relief at the light question before he moved back to his seat slowly as he digested Nanu's question. Had he really always done that? Guzma's chair let out a soft screech as he adjusted it into a more comfortable distance from the table before settling in as he stared at his plate then shrugged. “Well, I guess, yeah. I think I’ve always done it.”

“How come?”

Guzma’s brows furrowed as he poked at his dish, not even knowing the answer himself. “I’m not really...sure.” His grey eyes lifted to look at Nanu with a tilt of his head, “I mean, it just feels right. Owning a pokémon and battlin’ with them is a huge deal. To be able to do that ya need a steady and consented relationship. Like, ya wouldn't just marry someone without asking them first. I think just capturin’ a pokémon and _using_ them without asking if they _wanted_ to fight is kinda...disgusting.”

Nanu watched Guzma's nose wrinkle at the thought, his own face frozen in a state of shock. He hadn't expected such an answer from the thug, but he had gotten an amazing response that...actually made a lot of sense. He had never thought of it from that perspective before. However, Guzma's answer didn't fit too well with his past actions, but Nanu wasn't going to ruin the pleasant evening. He was too exhausted for a fight anyways.

“Why you lookin’ at me that way, old man?” Guzma asked.

“Didn't mean too. You just surprised me,” Nanu said honestly.

Guzma blinked before a wide smirk split his face in two, “Ya boi Guzma always full’a surprises.”

Nanu snorted and rolled his eyes, but smiled lightly as they continued to eat in comfortable silence.


	7. Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a mistake in one of the first few paragraphs. I meant to use elite four/kahuna and not captain. It has been corrected.

_Sleep_.

Guzma's gray eyes stared at the still darkness around above him as he chanted again.

_Sleep, damnit. Sleep!_

His eyes blinked, stinging from how dry they had become. It was no use. He had been awake for hours after Nanu had gone to bed. Their day had ended on a good note. They watched tv. Played with their pokémon. They even said goodnight to each other. It was odd. Guzma never thought that he would get used to something like that.

_Mother **fucker** , you can't even sleep! Fucking sleep!_

Guzma groaned as he rolled onto his side, forcing his eyes closed as his mind searched for a distraction. He hadn't had any problems with insomnia since Nanu took him in and he had no idea what made it come back. Guzma wracked his brain for something to think about. Thoughts blurred through his tired brain until it came to a sudden halt on Acerola. Guzma's eyes shot open. Why was he thinking of that brat?

_Sleep, dumbass. Sleeeeeeeep._

Guzma growled under his breath as he shuffled under his blanket to lay on his other side, staring out at more darkness. He didn't want to think about the girl, but for some reason his mind became attached to her. Was it because of Nanu? He couldn't see how that would be important to him. Although, the twerp had been lucky enough to be an orphan. Her parents didn't try to keep her even though they didn't want her, and that was fucking lucky. He wished he could say the same for himself. Guzma’s teeth began to grind as his brows furrowed. She really had gotten lucky. Her parents dumped her, and in return she got Nanu as a relative figure. All he had gotten were two parents who beat the shit out of him and yelled at him for existing, and Nanu was the cop that arrested him for the shit he’s done. The scars on Guzma's back throbbed, causing him to clench his eyes shut as he whimpered through the painful twinges. He wished he had been abandoned. He would have loved to grow up an orphan. It would have been nice to have Nanu as his only relative. Then he wouldn't have most of these scars.

_Why the fuck can't you sleep? The **one** **thing** that no one could fuck up, and you fuck it up._

The tissue in the scars stilled and Guzma released a breathy sigh. His fingers searched blindly along his forearm and latched onto any loose skin he felt under his fingertips, and pulled the skin free bit by bit. Acerola was also a very talented pokémon trainer. She was only, what, fucking eleven years old and she's already a _captain_? The normal age to go through the trials is eleven, but somehow she had surpassed all of that before she reached that age. Fucking _eleven years old_. Meanwhile, he had just _barely_ scraped by his trials and when he moved to fight against the elite four—Guzma's teeth sank down deep into his tongue as his nails clawed at his stinging skin. They **_obliterated_ ** him. The first kahuna completely destroyed him with no remorse and...everything he had worked so hard for was gone. He trained everyday for hours and hours on end with his pokémon and he _failed_. He was _worthless_. He was _weak_. He couldn't even beat _one kahuna_.

_You worthless piece of shit! How dare you come home a failure! You don't deserve to be my son! And you don't deserve this!_

Guzma recoiled at the memory, those words heavy on his mind as he remembered what happened next. His body began to curl in on itself as he felt something so important and meaningful be ripped from him in the memory. His whole body jerked when it shattered, his head turning to muffle his whimpers in the pillow as the memory faded away and left him empty and hollow. Frustrated and frightened tears filled his eyes as he held back his sobs by nearly suffocating himself as he forced himself to breathe through the thick fabric of the pillow.

_You can't fucking do anything. Why are you even alive?_

Guzma bit his tongue once again as he started scratching his skin, tearing at the layers of his burnt skin as he begged himself to sleep.

But he couldn't. He laid wide awake as sunlight flickered through the blinds and lit up various parts of the room until the whole building was lit with soft light. Soon after, Nanu's door opened and the older man slowly approached Guzma as he yawned the remaining sleep away. Lucky bastard.

“Guzma, it’s time-.”

“I’m awake,” Guzma interrupted. He kicked his blanket away and stood up, swaying from lack of sleep as he headed towards the bathroom.

A concerned expression graced Nanu's features as he turned to watch the thug. “Guzma? Are you alright?” Nanu asked.

“I’m fine. Leave me alone,” Guzma grumbled before slamming the door behind him.

Guzma skipped his shower, not caring enough to be clean, and even refused breakfast, which once again caused Nanu to ask if he was feeling okay. Once again, Guzma lied and brushed him off.

“Well...in that case, we’re still going back to work, then. We’ve healed up mostly from our sunburns so from now on we'll just have to be careful and wear sunscreen. Do you need help putting some on?” Nanu asked as he finished off his breakfast.

Guzma's stomach growled as he struggled to not watch Nanu eat. “Don't want any,” Guzma said as he moved back to his cot and pulled on his work clothes, and added his old jacket. He shivered when the black fabric covered his inked shoulders. Over the years that jacket had been something he used for comfort and identification, it had always been a part of who he was. Now...it felt wrong to wear it, like he was slipping back into an old addiction, but at the same time it felt secure and **_safe_**.

“Don't want any? Guzma you’ll get burned,” Nanu argued, slightly alarmed to see that jacket back on his shoulders.

“Don't care,” Guzma said as he began gathering his cleaning supplies.

Nanu had nothing to say. He couldn't exactly force Guzma to wear sunscreen. If he did, it wouldn't help either of them out in the end. “Okay...do you want me to check up on your wounds? See how well they've healed?”

“I’m not bleeding. Everything is still bruising. And my nose is still mending, but the doc was right when he said that it wasn't going to look the way it did before. You ready?” Guzma replied as he filled the bucket and stood by the door, avoiding Nanu’s eyes.

Nanu stared at Guzma hard, trying to dissect his emotions by looking at him. The look unnerved Guzma. He hated that look. He despised it when Nanu tried to figure him out. He didn't want people to understand him. He didn't even want people to register that he was even alive, but here he was, subjected to Nanu’s prying eyes as he tried to understand the functions of his soul.

Nanu sighed as he set his plate aside and slipped into his flip-flops. “I’m ready,” he replied.

Wordlessly, Guzma opened the door and walked out, not even pausing to wait for Nanu as he headed towards Po Town. After Nanu locked the door he jogged to catch up to the young thug.

“Guzma! You need to wait for me. If I’m not with you people are going to-.”

“Let them. Who cares?” Guzma scoffed, increasing his pace.

“Guzma, they will kill you if they were given a chance,” Nanu pressed as he scowled

Guzma snorted as he smiled bleakly to himself. “It ain't that easy, old man.”

Nanu's shorter legs struggled to keep up as his temper began to burn in his red eyes. “Guzma if they outnumber you, I don't care _how_ strong you are, they'll kill you. Do you understand that? You made a mistake and they want you to pay for it in blood. If you don't put your ego in check you'll-.”

Guzma whirled around to glare at Nanu with his cold grey eyes as he towered over the older man, just now noticing how much taller he was than the officer. “First of all, _tiny stack of fake flavorless pancakes_ , that’s not what I meant. Second, do you really want to talk about egos? ‘Cause your’s is a fuckin’ mile long and I don't mind pointin’ it out.”

Nanu scoffed, not hiding the offended look from his face as his hand pressed his own chest. “ _My_ ego? I’m not the one parading around like I’m the finest human specimen ever put on the fucking planet! I don't act like I’m invincible!”

“Oh fuck _off_. Like you don't think yer some _saint_ for helping out garbage like _me_. You’re so fuckin’ high and mighty because you know what a _screw up_ I am and yer the guy who thinks he can fix me. Well guess what, shorty? You _can't_ fix me. I’ve _always_ been filth and it's _not_ going to change just because you want to feel better about yourself,” Guzma hissed as his finger jabbed Nanu’s sternum to drill his words into the older man.

“I’m not helping you because I think it’ll make me feel better about myself! I’m trying to help you because I’m worried about you! I genuinely care about your well-being, jackass!” Nanu snarled back, fuming as his face turned red while he panted from his burst of emotion.

Guzma was taken aback by his exclamation, his heart stuttering in his chest before he pushed all of those feelings aside and squashed them under a steel wall built around his heart. “Don't lie to me, old man. No one has ever cared for me and I’ve made my peace with it. You aren't going to change me and I’m not going to be a trophy for you to wave at your friends.” Before Nanu could respond Guzma turned on his heel and stomped up to the gates of Po Town, slipping inside without looking back.

Nanu’s teeth creaked as his jaw flexed while his red eyes burned with rage. That _idiot_. Sometimes Nanu wished he could just _beat_ some sense into that fool. Nanu closed his eyes as he took in a deep breath and slowly released it, continuing the cycle until his heart held a steady pace and his fists became limp at his sides. Anger wasn't going to get them anywhere. Nanu groaned as he dragged a hand down his face. “Why did you have to yell at him, Nanu? That's not going to solve anything,” he said, berating himself as he approached Po Town.

Guzma was already at work. Or, at least, trying to work. He was cursing at the top of his lungs as he tried to set up his supplies. He reached into the bucket to pull out the hose, which in turn tipped the bucket over so everything spilled onto the stone street. Guzma cursed again as he kicked the hose away and grabbed his gloves. As he pulled them on the rubber ripped, causing Guzma to snarl as he tore them off and threw them on the ground and stomped on them repeatedly before kicking them aside with the hose. Nanu watched as Guzma started to wrestle with the soap bottle, wincing when the cap opened last minute and shot out at the young man’s face, soaking him in orange goo. Nanu sighed before he slowly approached the thug. He had to patch things up quickly before they got worse.

“Guzma, I didn't-.”

“Go sit on your rock, copper. Sit on that stupid rock and pull out that dumbass gun and wait for me to lag behind on my work. I’m not interested in talkin’ to you,” Guzma hissed, glaring hard at the elder man.

Nanu didn't show it, but his heart fell cold in his chest at the amount of rage and hatred he saw in Guzma's eyes. The way he spat “copper” didn't help either. At least “old man” and “geezer” were playful nicknames. Copper made him feel like the enemy. Which, in a way, he was. “Okay,” Nanu relented quietly. He stepped away without another word and settled onto a nearby rock, but he left the kiddie gun tucked behind him as he watched.

Guzma didn't notice any of this as he wrestled with the bottle of soap. He snarled in frustration and squeezed the bottle with all of his strength, watching with satisfaction as the liquid inside bled into the red bucket and soaked the stone road. He tossed the empty bottle into a bush and snatched the hose from the ground as he stormed over to a house. He struggled to attach the hose with his soap covered hands, hissing when the metal pinched his skin as it slipped due to the bandages. “Damn fucking bandages keep getting in the fuckin’ way,” he snarled as he threw the hose down and ripped the bandages free from his hand, exposing the scabbed gash on his palm. He grabbed the hose again and with a few more curses he was finally able to hook up the hose, his hand aching from the friction against his scab. He ignored the pain as he used the hose to wash the remaining soap from his hands and then filled the bucket.

Just as he finished filling the bucket, thunder suddenly cracked above him as black clouds swallowed the blue sky and heavy rain began to beat down on his body. Guzma stood still as he stared at the bucket at his feet. He watched as the rain topped off the water in the bucket until it started to overflow.

Nanu watched as Guzma stood still under the rain with his hands clenched tightly at his sides. This wasn't good. He sighed as he stood up from the rock and took a step towards the thug. “Guzma, why don't we pack up and-.”

“Sit yer ass back on that rock, copper. Stop acting like yer my friend. We came here for me to work and I’m goin’ to work. The sooner I get this community service shit done the better,” Guzma snapped. He dropped to his knees and grabbed the bristle brush and started scrubbing away at the blue paint with a deep scowl marring his face.

“Guzma, you’ll catch a-.”

“ **SIT THE FUCK DOWN AND SHUT UP** ,” Guzma screeched, still refusing to meet Nanu’s eyes.

Nanu frowned but did as told, sitting back on the rock with folded arms over his chest as rain pelted the trees and dripped onto Nanu below.

Guzma worked hard for hours on end to no avail. All of his soap had been washed away with the rain which made it impossible for the spray paint to be cleaned, but Guzma didn't stop. Obsessively he scrubbed at the same stone tile. He cursed when his hand slipped and was torn by the stone, but he barely cast a glance at the new wounds as he continued to clean. He had to get out of there as soon as possible. He didn't want to see Nanu pity him anymore. He didn't want to listen to this man lie about caring for him. He wanted things to go back to the way they were. He wanted to go _home_. He wanted to be with Plumeria. He wanted his gang back. He wanted to be feared. He wanted to be powerful again. He wanted to feel like he was actually _worth_ something again. He wanted...he wanted...Guzma became still as he hung his head in sorrow.

His body was cold. His drenched clothes clung to his skin as he felt himself drown in the heavy rain. His eyes burned as his heart became heavy and exposed. Tears slipped down his cheeks as a weak sob fell from his lips. His vision blurred as he cradled his injured hand, crying harder when he fully felt the pain he had inflicted on himself. Guzma clawed at his other bandages, exposing his healing wounds as he curled up on the ground, shaking as rain pelted his back.

Nanu had enough. He abandoned his rock and slowly walked over to Guzma and kneeled down beside him. “Come on, Guzma. Let's go home. You’re in no condition to work today,” Nanu said as he laid a hand on Guzma's back.

Guzma's body eased back into the Nanu’s warm touch before he suddenly recoiled. “Don't touch me,” Guzma said, voice broken as he weakly slapped Nanu's hand away. Guzma refused to look Nanu in the eyes as he pushed himself to his feet, feeling weighed down by the rain and his sour mood. “I’m gonna go take a shit.”

Nanu could only watch as Guzma slunk up the steps to the mansion and disappeared behind the massive doors, sighing as his red eyes shimmered with regret.

When Guzma closed the door behind him his legs weakened. His spine pressed back onto the wood for support as he hiccuped and began to sob. Tears filled his eyes and ran down his cheeks while his hands struggled to wipe them away. “What’s _wrong_ with you?” Guzma whispered breathlessly as his fingers dug into his skin as he hid his face in his hands. He peeked through the cracks of his fingers and his heart squeezed painfully in his chest. His home was empty. No pokémon getting into trouble. No Plumeria keeping people in order. No grunts swooning and shaking as they admired and feared him. Even though the mansion was dressed in his lively colors and his insignia, this place was dead and no longer his. He never felt so alone. He closed his eyes and whole body shook as he cried.

How could he be so _stupid_? How could he allow himself to lose everything so easily? How could he let himself be used like that? How could he allow himself to be so _weak_?

_You were always **weak**._

Guzma flinched as an ominous voice haunted and poisoned his mind. He curled in on himself as those words echoed in his skull. He was weak. Always so _weak_. If he were strong he wouldn't—the scars on his back burned and yanked a hard yelp from his throat as he reached back, struggling to grasp them with his hand in an effort to calm the skin. Guzma sobbed through the pain, grinding his teeth as he begged for whatever deity was listening to take the pain away, or just end it all. Soon the pain subsided and he allowed himself to breathe. He was so fucking weak…

With a low growl in his throat Guzma scrubbed the tears from his face, cursing at himself for being so pathetic. How could he let himself get like this? How could he let himself become this whiny baby? And a poorly dressed one at that.

Guzma forced himself onto his feet and glared at the stairs before he stormed up them to his old room, but froze in front of the door. He scowled at himself. “Don't be fucking stupid, Guzma. It’s just a fucking room,” he growled. Without waiting any longer he shoved the door open and ignored the way his breath caught in his chest and the way his eyes stared at his old bed in longing. He needed fresh clothes. Guzma tossed opened the doors to the closet and smirked upon seeing an extra set of clothes right where he left them. He changed quickly into an old pair of pants and a shirt that were identical to the clothes Nanu had refused to return to him and topped it off with his old jacket. He shivered from the touch of the fabric. His stomach bubbled uncomfortably but his body relaxed under the familiar weight of the outfit. This felt much better, but he wasn't done yet.

Guzma glanced over at the rack just behind his bed. Over thirty bottles twinkled back at him, most of them empty except for a select few he had been saving. Ignoring the temptation, for now, Guzma climbed onto the bed to get a better view of each bottle. Blue. Red. Purple. There it was. Guzma grabbed the green bottle and settled onto the bed before tipping it over. Hidden jewelry spilled out from inside into his lap, the sparkling surfaces winking at him the same way the bottles had. With a few more shakes the bottle was empty and tossed aside, shattering on the wood floor as he picked through his treasure. It had been a while since he wore these. A few months? Yeah. During his last relapse. The metal kept him from sleeping comfortably. Guzma twisted the diamond earrings between his fingers as he tried to remember where he had gotten them. Weren't these the ones he had stolen from that woman during their rampage? Or were these the ones Plumeria had gotten him? His heart stuttered as his shoulders slumped. He suddenly lost interest in the jewelry’s origin and brushed his hair away from his ears and put the diamonds in place. The added weight on his earlobe caused him to shiver. It felt a bit like someone was chewing on his earlobe and made him feel...vulnerable. He shivered again before he continued to search through the jewelry. Gold studs were placed in piercings just above the diamonds. Matching gold loops placed on the helix on his left ear, an industrial gold bar in the right. Shimmering gold double barbells laid horizontal over the right eyebrow. Dangerously sharp and shiny snakebites under his lip. A small block of gold pierced through and melting on his tongue. Much better.

Guzma slipped off the bed and approached the mirror as he stared at himself. The jewelry glowed softly under the light, threatening and beautiful in his skin. An author would be tempted to compare the jewelry to himself, but Guzma knew an author like that would have to be pretty fucking stupid. He was in no way beautiful. Threatening and dangerous and even hard to look at, just like a piercing, but not beautiful. Especially not with the scars and scratches and bruises on his face.

Guzma slipped his tongue out from his mouth and watched light bounce off the piercing. The stuff he had done while wearing this jewelry was more than enough to prove that he wasn't beautiful. He stared at the scabbed cut on his lips and scowled. He reached up and scratched at the scab, wincing as he pulled the hardened skin free and exposed the wound once again. Blood bubbled upon the rip which he wiped away with his tongue. The taste of his blood buzzed on his taste buds and Guzma couldn't help but grin wickedly at the memories. What he had done, stuff he had mostly done while wearing his jewelry, had always been one of the few things that cured his depression. At least for a moment. He stared at the red spots glimmering on the barbells above his eye as he was pulled into the past.

He loved it when people resisted him and his power. Sure, most days he preferred for people to fear him enough to not fight back so he could get his job done faster, but there were those days he nearly begged for people to oppose. It wasn't because deep down he knew what he was doing was wrong or some philosophical shit like that. He wanted people to challenge him so he had a reason to shed blood. It hadn't happened often, but he always reveled in it. The look of opposition on their face. The way their eyes glared at him with that familiar fire of hatred and disgust. The way they spat hateful words that foretold his future demise in power. It was always so _funny_. One moment they are brave and the next they are begging for mercy. All he had to do was smile and they knew they were gonners. Plumeria always forced the grunts to retreat when he got violent. She always wanted to protect them from his anger and ugly side. He didn't understand why. The grunts would easily piece together what he had done when he came home soaked in blood.

Guzma licked his lips as his eyes glazed, remembering the horror on their faces the first time he came home dressed in red. They were so worried, asking if he was okay and holding out their hands to help hold him up. It wasn't until he laughed and proclaimed that it wasn't his blood that they recoiled and stared at him in fear. He didn't mind. It kept them in their place. Although their expressions were amusing. It was like they had just realized that their precious god was a murderer.

A soft _creak_ interrupted his thoughts and caused Guzma to stiffen. Someone was in his house. Guzma ground his teeth as he swiped one last thing from his room and grabbed a lamp as he slowly approached the door. His cold hand wrapped around the doorknob, waiting a moment, and then ripped the door open with a snarl as he swung his arm.

A hand caught his wrist with ease and before he registered what was going on, Nanu had taken the lamp from his hand and set it on the floor as he stared at him with the same withdrawn red eyes he always wore. Nanu’s eyes glanced from one piercing to the next and then to his clothes before returning to Guzma's gray eyes. “You look like your old self,” Nanu commented.

Guzma growled as he ripped his wrist away and pushed Nanu back as he slammed the door behind him. “What do you think you are doing in here? This is _my_ house and I did _not_ let you in.”

“This isn't your house and it’s raining outside,” Nanu stated as if Guzma hadn't already known.

“You’re already soaked so why did you even bother coming in! You're ruining my carpet you bastard!” Guzma snapped.

Nanu rolled his eyes in exasperation as he rubbed his arm to warm himself. “This isn't your hou-.”

He snapped. He didn't really even know what he was doing while he did it, but he felt it. Guzma felt the air rush over his skin as he threw his fist. He felt his knuckles strike and dig deep into Nanu’s cheek. He felt the recoil that shot up his arm from striking bone, and he watched as his punch knocked Nanu down onto his back. To give Nanu credit, he didn't cry out or even really react to the punch. He merely pushed himself up into a lazy sitting position with his legs sprawled out in front of him as he rubbed his cheek and spat blood onto the floor. Despite himself, Guzma felt regret drip through his veins.

Nanu hummed as he continued to cradle his cheek. “I guess I should stop saying that, huh?” he asked softly.

Guzma felt shame roll over him as he clenched his jaw and refused to answer.

Nanu sighed as he dropped his hand. “You’re not gonna come back with me peacefully, are you?”

Guzma still said nothing in return. His hand reached behind him as he blindly searched for the doorknob.

Nanu grumbled under his breath as he reached into his pocket and pulled out an ultraball and cracked it open.

Guzma sucked in a deep breath as he watched the persian take form and gulped at the size. It was massive. Over three feet for a kid was small in human terms, but when faced against a creature with sharp fangs and razor claws with a lithe body packed with muscles, it was fucking scary as hell. Guzma reached into his pocket, searching for his pokémon, but paused. All he had was his cutiefly. He had no chance of winning, especially since he and the cutiefly hadn't even trained together. The persian cast a glance over its shoulder at check on Nanu. The creature’s pupils turned to pinpoints upon noticing the blood dripping from Nanu’s lip and it whirled around to snarl at Guzma, the fur on it’s back rising as it’s claws seemed to double in size.

This was it. This is how he was going to die. Part of him was thrilled. It was all finally over. He’d be dead and he wouldn't care and no one else would care either. Yet his heart hammered in his chest and he backed up against the door like cornered prey, his sweating hand struggling to gain purchase on the doorknob. This was going to be a long and painful death.

“Lavender, be nice. I’m okay,” Nanu said as he stood up and dusted himself off.

Guzma gulped as he glared at Nanu in fear. “Why can't you just leave me alone? Why can't you just leave me here? It's what's best for both of us!” Guzma argued.

The persian growled in warning and Guzma held his breath. Nanu shook his head as he moved to stand beside his pokémon and began stroking its head. “I can't do that. You’ll be killed.”

“So **_what_**? How is that your problem? Why do you care so much about fixing everything!” Guzma snapped.

“I’m a policeman, Guzma. It's my job to keep everyone safe and in line.”

“Killing me would be **_justice_**! Your job would be done! You could go back to your regular life!” Guzma exclaimed.

“Killing is **_not_ ** justice, Guzma. Not when it’s someone like you. I don't want any dead bodies on my hands nor do I want my town to have citizens killing each other over their own sense of justice. Deciding the fate of someone's life belongs to me and me only. You don't deserve to die, Guzma, and I won't let you,” Nanu stated as he squared his shoulders and held his head high.

What could he say to that? Guzma's shoulders slumped as the anger melted from his face, exposing the raw sadness he felt inside as he asked one question, “Why?”


	8. Sick of It

They hadn't spoken since last night. More accurately, they hadn't spoken to each other after Nanu refused to answer his question and Guzma, in return, refused to speak to him. Of course Nanu had tried. He tried with all his might last night to get Guzma to speak until his voice became hoarse and weak. Although, most of that was due to Nanu getting sick from being caught up in the rain.

Nanu swayed on his feet as he wobbled into the kitchen, looking whiter than usual as he leaned heavily against the wall. Once he reached the cabinets he struggled to pull out the bag of food from beneath with his weak arms. His meowth circled around him and rubbed against his legs as they begged for food in loud piercing shrieks. “I know, I know. ‘M workin’ on it,” Nanu mumbled, wincing at the sound of his own voice. He gave one final tug on the bag and it ripped, food spilling all over the floor. Nanu stared at the mess as the meoth dove in. With a frustrated sigh he decided to leave the mess as he shuffled over to the fridge.

“Is cereal okay for today? I don’ think I’m up for preparing a meal,” Nanu croaked as he turned his gaze to Guzma.

Guzma said nothing. He ignored him as he sat on his cot with his legs crossed as he picked at the scabs on his hand with his cutiefly sitting on his knee.

Nanu merely watched him for a few moments as he waited for an answer and groaned when he received nothing. He opened the fridge and pulled out a jug of milk then pulled out two bowls from the cabinet. “Look, Guzma, for what it's worth, I’m sorry. I just ca-caa...ah—CHOO...ugh. I just can't let them hurt you,” Nanu mumbled as he sniffed.

Guzma finished picking off the scabs on the back of his hand and flipped his hand over to stare at his palm. The cutiefly chirped and poked at Guzma's finger with it’s beak but the pokémon also went ignored.

“Guzma, I’m serious. I know you hate me but-.” Nanu suddenly fell into a violent fit of coughing. His coughs only grew worse until the mucus rattling in his chest was spat into the sink and quickly washed away. Nanu groaned as his head swam. He clung to the counter and felt his forehead, then winced at the heat radiating from his skin. He felt like shit. And not just because he was sick.

Nanu’s vision became blurry as his knees buckled. “I’m...I’m so—.” Nanu's eyes rolled back in his head, knees wobbling before he crumbled to the floor unconscious.

Guzma glanced at Nanu’s still figure with a dull filter over his eyes. Some of the meowths tried to wake Nanu, yowling and pawing at his unmoving body. Guzma watched them for a few seconds before turning back to the large scab on his palm. His nail scrapped at the edges of the thick scab, hacking away at the protective layer as his cutiefly chirped angrily.

“I’m not helping him,” Guzma replied, his voice quiet from going unused.

The cutiefly snorted, wings twitching in anger as it chirped again, but louder this time.

“I said I’m not helping him. He can rot for all I care. The only reason why I’m still here is because his dumbass persian is outside just waiting to kill me, and that offer is actually starting to sound good,” Guzma scoffed.

The cutiefly pecked hard at his scab and caused Guzma to yelp as he recoiled. “Ow! You little bitch, I said no! I don't care what happens to him! He means nothing to me! Let him rot!” Guzma snarled, fist raised high in threat.

The cutiefly only stared back as his words echoed throughout the room. Guzma avoided the pokémon’s gaze, which left him alone with his own words. Guilt bubbled in his stomach which in turn caused him to feel sick. He tried to fight it. He tried to forget. He tried so hard to fuel all of his hate towards Nanu, but he couldn't. He was weak like that.

Guzma groaned as he set the cutiefly aside and pushed himself off the cot to help Nanu. He shoved the meowths away and rolled Nanu onto his back, searching for injuries. Luckily there was only a scrape on his elbow and nothing serious. “Can't believe I’m doing this for you,” Guzma grumbled. He slipped an arm under Nanu’s shoulders and another under Nanu’s knees and lifted him up. Guzma blinked in surprise as he stood up. He stared down at Nanu’s body as he lifted him up and down. He was _light_. Not the little old man kind of light, the “I hardly eat anything” kind of light. With a frown Guzma moved Nanu to the couch and laid him down gently. He rested a hand on Nanu’s chest and frowned further when he felt a rattle vibrating against his palm. There was a lot of mucus in his chest. Guzma removed his hand and grabbed a pillow and stuffed it under Nanu's head. He probably needed another one. Guzma grabbed the pillow and blanket from his cot and gave them to Nanu, tucking him in. He should probably look for medicine. That cough sounded pretty bad and that mucus was going to cause Nanu a lot of problems if he didn't get it out.

“Meeeeee,” a meowth called out as it jumped onto Nanu’s lap and started climbing onto his chest.

“No, no, don't do that. Yer gonna have to lay on him from the hips down. Don't put so much pressure on his chest, alright?” Guzma said as he moved the meowth back to Nanu’s lap, “Don't crawl on his chest. I’ll be right back.”

Guzma left to search Nanu’s room for medicine, sighing in relief when he found just what he needed. When he came back he set the bottle of pills on the table beside the couch along with a vaporub. Guzma grabbed a glass of water and set it beside the pills before he picked up the vaporub and sighed. This was going to be _weird_. Guzma pulled the blanket back and pulled up Nanu's shirt, pausing as he stared curiously at the older man's torso. He didn't have much in the way of muscle, like most of it had withered away and there were only small remains of what used to be left behind. It was most likely from age, but he suspected differently. However, that wasn't what he was focused on at the moment. There were scars all over Nanu's body. Some seemed professional and clean, like they had been done by surgery, but others were violent and had healed much like his own. Those weren't the kind of scars any ol’ cop would get from doing their job.

“What have you been up to, old man?” Guzma murmured. He scooped out a large dose of the rub and placed it on Nanu's chest, blushing as he did so. This was so awkward. He wished Nanu were awake so he could do this to himself, because honestly rubbing stuff on a man probably more than twice his age wasn't exactly on his to do list. Once he was finished he pulled Nanu’s shirt back down, and then wiped his hand on the tail of Nanu’s shirt for good measure and tossed the blanket back over him. Instantly three meowths were at his side and jumping on their master. “In his lap or on the floor, you shits,” Guzma ordered as he relocated each meowth to Nanu’s legs before pointing at his cutiefly, “Watch them, little dude, make sure they stay off his stomach and chest.”

The cutiefly chirped and nodded as he buzzed into position and shot a defensive glare at the meowths. Guzma snorted as he turned over to the other meowths who were still gobbling down all the food they could force into their mouths. “Alright, break it up. You’ve all had more than enough. Get moving. Go comfort the old man,” Guzma said as he shooed the meowth away with his hands. Eventually he managed to push them all away which gave him an opportunity to clean up the mess Nanu had made and put the food away, at least what was left in the bag. Guzma stared at the kitchen and sighed. He’d probably have to make food for Nanu, too. The guy was already so thin, this cold could kill him if he didn't eat something.

“Hey little dude, feel the old man’s forehead and see if he's got a temperature,” Guzma said as he opened the cabinets and began searching. The cutiefly nodded and buzzed up to Nanu’s forehead and pressed a small, round foot onto his skin. The cutiefly jerked back from the heat and chirped at his trainer. Guzma nodded as he pulled out ingredients to make a soup. “Alright. I’ll be over there in a sec with some ice. Keep watching the meowth,” Guzma ordered as he started up the stove.

Nanu had no idea when he had fallen asleep, but he knew what had woken him up. Nanu’s nose twitched as he sniffed cautiously at the air before inhaling deeply. Someone was cooking and it smelled...surprisingly pleasant. With a soft groan Nanu opened his bleary eyes. Guzma's cutiefly hovered in front of his face, squeaking as if asking questions as it moved from one eye to the other and pulled back again. “What’re you doin’ out?” Nanu rasped. His eyes widened as fear shocked him to the very core. _Fuck_. How could he be so careless? He snatched the cutiefly who squeaked in protest as he forced himself to sit up, the cold rag on his forehead falling into his lap and he started coughing. “Wh-where...where’s Guzma?” Nanu gasped through his violent coughs.

“Lay the fuck down and calm your wrinkly ass. I just went to the bathroom,” Guzma scoffed as he entered the room again with a scowl on his face, “And let go of my pokémon. You shouldn't shake him like that.”

Nanu stared at Guzma in shock as he released the discombobulated cutiefly. He watched as the thug cursed and began to stir the bubbling soup furiously, trying to keep it from burning as he turned the heat down. “You...you didn't leave?” Nanu asked in disbelief.

“Shut up and take your medicine. That cough of yours sounds disgusting,” Guzma replied as he gestured to the coffee table.

Nanu turned his gaze to the bottle of pills and glass of water. His eyes widened in shock, but he held back his questions as he followed orders and took a pill as he eagerly gulped down the water. That's when he noticed that his shirt was sticking to his skin. Nanu peeled the article back and his eyebrows shot up again. “You put vaporub on my chest?”

“Didn't I tell you to shut up?” Guzma retorted as he turned off the stove.

Nanu studied Guzma as he moved the large pot onto an unused burner to allow the soup to cool off. “Why did you stay?” Nanu asked quietly.

Guzma finally looked at Nanu, shooting the older male a glare, but the look was merely made of annoyance and held no hatred. “I wanted to see how long it would take before the meowth started eating you,” Guzma lied.

“...so you made lunch, gave me medicine, made me comfortable, and cleaned up the food I had spilled?” Nanu asked.

“I do what I want. And so does your persian outside. I didn't really want to try to unfasten it's jaw from my leg while I tried to get away,” Guzma shrugged as he readied two bowls.

Nanu couldn't help but smirk lightly at the boy. “She probably is rather hungry.”

Guzma snorted as he filled the first bowl and brought it to Nanu. “Eat. You're so light my cutiefly could knock you over. Might be overdone but you need something in your stomach,” Guzma ordered.

“Ah...thanks,” Nanu said as he took the food slowly. The younger man watched as Nanu mixed the soup with his spoon but didn't take a bite. He was stalling.

“Either you finish off that whole bowl or you tell me why you haven't been eating properly,” Guzma threatened with a scowl.

Almost immediately Nanu began spooning the soup into his mouth and Guzma snorted. He moved back to the kitchen and poured his own bowl and sat at the high table, keeping an eye on Nanu to make sure he ate everything as he ate his own lunch.

Guzma was into his third bowl by the time Nanu had finally finished his first and only bowl. “Want seconds?”

Nanu shook his head. “No. I’m good.”

“Not good enough for you?” Guzma asked as he took another bite.

“No. It was actually pretty good. A little over done like you said, but not bad at all. I’m just full,” Nanu shrugged.

“Are you actually full or are you lying to me?” Guzma asked as he stirred his food. He glanced at Nanu and rolled his eyes at the glare the old man gave him. “Don't look at me like that. I ain't the one starving myself,” Guzma pointed out.

“I’m not starving myself!” Nanu argued, voice rising as he became defensive. Unusual behavior for someone usually so silent.

“Oh yeah. Yer right. Most dudes I know weigh less than five pounds. My mistake,” Guzma scoffed.

“I’m old. I’m not going to weigh the same as someone as young as you,” Nanu replied.

“You’re only fifty three. Your white hair comes from albinism, not age,” Guzma said as he tossed Nanu’s wallet onto the coffee table, exposing his ID, “Don't throw that old man crap at me. You're letting yourself waste away on purpose.

Nanu clenched his jaw as his fingers clawed at the blanket in his lap. “Drop it, Guzma.”

“I won't. You refused to answer my question yesterday, so today you have to answer this one. Why are you starving yourself?” Guzma demanded as he completely abandoned his food to stand over Nanu.

“I’m fucking _poor_ , Guzma! I’m not trying to starve myself! It's either the meowth eat or I do. And I’m busy! I forget to eat sometimes. It's not a big deal, you're making this a bigger issue than it really is,” Nanu snapped, his cold causing his temper to ignite with ease.

Guzma frowned. Nanu was telling the truth, but only partially. “Why didn't you tell me? I could have-.”

“I didn't think I would have to spell it out for you! I live in a fucking abandoned police station! I’ve been surviving off of next to nothing for over fucking twenty years! And what the hell could you have done? I doubt you have a penny to your name and you're the one who eats all the goddamn food,” Nanu sneered.

It was Guzma's turn to gnash his teeth. He dug into his pocket and slammed a thick stack of bills into Nanu’s lap with a snarl, causing the meowths to flee in fear. “Fucking take it! That should cover for whatever the hell you want to buy. Sorry I’m such a fucking burden! It's not like I fucking want to be here anyways!”

Nanu stared at the money in cautious awe. “Guzma...is this real?”

“Of course it’s real. I don't fuck with counterfeits.”

“So it was stolen,” Nanu sighed as he rubbed his throbbing temples.

“Oh no, I worked really hard at my job at a fast food joint for six years to get that. Of course it's fuckin’ stolen! What does it matter to you? It'll help with your problems, won't it?” Guzma asked.

“Guzma, it’s stolen money, I can't-.”

“Can't what? Use money for shit you need while the rich guy I took this from would just sit on it?” Guzma demanded.

“Guzma, it doesn't matter what they were going to do with it, it’s their money,” Nanu sighed as a headache formed in his head.

“Would ya be so resistant if I told you the money came from Lusamine?” Guzma offered.

Nanu paused. “Lusamine? This is Lusamine’s money?”

Guzma smirked. “Yup. Right from her own vault. I figured that someone as smart and rich as her would keep all her money on digital in a bank, but I guess Lusamine didn't care much about money. Her vault was outdated and weak as hell. Not even guarded. Don't even get me started on the security system.”

Nanu absorbed the new information as he studied the bills. It was real money, and sure it had been stolen, but it had been stolen from someone who didn't use their money much less cared for it, plus Lusamine was evil. Nanu flipped through the bills and then sighed. “This will only last a month and a half if we're careful,” Nanu relented.

“Fuck being careful. I’ve got _thousands_ upon _thousands_ back in Po Town. We can use the money for whatever we want, but I have a rule,” Guzma warned.

Nanu snorted. “ _You_ have a _rule_?”

“ _Yes_ , I have a rule. You can have all the money you want, _but_ you have to eat three full sized meals a day. No skipping out. You have to make sure we have enough money for you to eat, even if it sacrifices something else. You can't use that dumb ass ‘I have no money’ excuse to not eat, got it?” Guzma said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Nanu stared at Guzma, his body tense as he looked away when a light smile grazed his lips as he chuckled. “Alright, I promise to start eating right. I have been, anyways, since I started feeding you. Keeping up appearances and all,” Nanu shrugged, relieved that Guzma hadn't demanded for him to spill his true reason for starving himself.

“Yeah yeah. Now do you want a second bowl or not?” Guzma asked.

“No. But I do want to ask you a question,” Nanu said as he began thumbing through the money again.

“Ugh, and what would that be?” Guzma sighed.

Nanu looked right into his grey eyes. “Why are you helping me?”

Guzma lifted a brow as he removed Nanu's bowl from the coffee table and shrugged as he turned his back to Nanu. “Because you don't know me like ya thought you did. Contrary to what you believe, I don't hate you. You annoy the fuck outta me, but I don't hate you, man. There are way worse people in the world that my hate targets,” Guzma snorted.

Nanu smiled to himself as a gentle blush dusted his cheeks. “Heh. Thanks, Guzma,” he murmured.

“Whatever,” Guzma snorted as his guilt melted away, “But don't think that this is gonna change anything.”


	9. Tight Around The Neck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter, so far, has been my favorite to write. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> Also!!! If anyone has questions about this fic or wants to talk to me about it, my tumblr is depressed-and-sour-lemon-bite

Guzma had never been afraid of the dark. He had always embraced it even as a little boy. It was comforting. Shadows had always been his friend. They always hid him from his father's bloodthirsty sight and his mother's snitching lips. This place was different. The shadows here didn't hold him lovingly, they clung to his body like ice and weighed him down as they exposed him. The shadows here weren't his allies. Their loyalty lied in _them_.

With his shoulders tense and his eyes wild he walked alone through the new world. _Lusamine’s_ so called new lovely world. This world was perfect for her. It was all so morbid. Everything here seemed... **alive**. The very plants around him seemed to breathe and he could never escape the feeling of being surrounded by unwanted surveyors. Lusamine probably loved the feeling. Guzma didn't. He didn't like being constantly seen. It made him feel naked and vulnerable.

With a hollow moan a ghostly figure appeared before him, winding white tentacles reaching out to him as he gasped and stumbled back. Poison oozed from the smooth tentacles as the beast emitted a chilly whimper again and moved in closer. Guzma had stopped breathing, his heart pounding as he watched the tentacle draw closer. He was shaking. Trembling like a child before an angry father. Frozen in place so as to not worsen his punishment. The tentacle pressed against his chest, feeling his heartbeat as poison dripped still, before it slowly slithered up to his shoulder. Poison devoured holes through his clothes and then rotted his flesh and bones. His screams were trapped in his throat as the white beast lazily wrapped a tentacle around his neck as it floated around his body, inspecting him. The tentacle brushing his chin felt like slim fingers lifting his face to expose his throat to more dripping tendrils. Guzma felt air escape his lips in a rush, his breath ghosting in front of his eyes like the beast behind him as blood pounded in his ears.

Then it happened.

The beast shrieked as its teeth sank deep into his head, each tooth feeling like a massive needle cracking his skull as Guzma screamed. His blood filled the beast’s clear dome as its tentacles tightened on his throat like a belt to silence him. Yet he continued to scream even as the teeth shattered bone. Even as they pierced his brain and shredded the useless and wasted spongy material. Even as he felt his life slipping away into the darkness.

Guzma gasped as he shot up on his cot. He panted heavily with wide eyes as he clutched the blanket to his chest. Goosebumps spread across his skin as he trembled in fear as his nightmare slowly melted from the front of his mind and pooled to the back. Guzma pulled the blanket up higher as he hid his face in the fabric. Nanu’s scent lifted from the blanket and he inhaled it greedily as it calmed Guzma's nerves, but for only a second, when he suddenly recognized another scent. Guzma pulled the blanket away in a rush and to his horror he saw that his whole lap was soaked, including the cot underneath.

“No, no, no! No, this can't be happening,” Guzma whimpered as he fumbled to kick the blanket away. Even in the moonlight he could still see the huge mess he had created. What was he? Fucking three years old? How the _fuck_ could he _wet the bed_ at fucking twenty-one?

Tears sprung into Guzma's eyes as fear clogged his throat. He was going to get into so much _trouble_. His fear tripled at the thought and he scrambled to fix it. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Guzma hiccuped as he stood up and quickly shed his soiled shorts and underwear. He shivered as air brushed over his exposed thighs which only heightened the tension in his shoulders. He scrambled for the blanket and wrapped it around his body. He stared at the ruined cot and wet clothes as he continued to sob, struggling to stay quiet as he clawed at his face.

“He’s gonna _**kill me**_ ,” Guzma whimpered. He kicked the offending clothes under the cot, wishing for them to vanish as he formulated a plan. He had to clean up this...mess. He had to do it secretly. He needed towels. It would be too noticeable for a whole roll of paper towels to go missing. A single bath towel would be more than enough and wouldn't be missed. The only problem was _getting_ it. Guzma wiped the tears from his face and choked on his sobs as he tried to silence himself. There was only one way to get what he needed, but he was going to have to be extremely careful. With a frightened gulp Guzma slowly approached Nanu’s room. With his heart pounding in his chest he held his breath as his fingertips brushed over the doorknob. With a brave breath he twisted the knob and pushed the door open bit by bit to peak in.

Nanu laid on his back with multiple pillows propping him up as he snored, breathing heavily through his mouth due to the congestion in his nose. Good. It looks like he hasn't woken up since they had gone to bed. There was less of a chance for him to wake up now. Guzma eased the door open further as he slowly crept into the room using only the moonlight to light the way. He clung to the shadows as he walked on the flooring closest to the wall to avoid making any sounds with noisy floorboards. He slowly inched his way to the lockers and kneeled down as he slowly opened one of the doors and cringed as the metal squeaked. He waited, but Nanu didn't wake up. Guzma sighed in relief before letting out a soft gasp when he finally had a towel in his hands. He could get away with this. All he had to do was clean up the mess and burry the towel in the trash and toss his dirty clothes into the washer the next time Nanu washed darks. This was going to work. He was _safe_.

The room was suddenly flooded with light and Guzma froze as the hope in his chest died. Nanu stood in front of the doorway with his hand on the lightswitch while rubbing the back of his neck as he coughed softly.

“Guzma? What’re you doing?” Nanu mumbled groggily as he scrubbed at his eyes.

Guzma's eyes widened in fear as he scrambled backwards while Nanu towered over him. “I-I-I w-wasn't d-d-doin’ a-anything. I-I sw-swear,” Guzma stuttered as he trembled. His heel held down the edge of the blanket as he pulled himself further away, causing the fabric to unravel and expose Guzma's naked body.

Nanu's eyes widened as he stared. “Uh, Guzma, why….” Nanu couldn't finish as he stared at Guzma's legs in blatant terror.

Guzma's heart stilled as he shook, scooting back into a shower stall like a cornered animal as he started to sob. “P- _please_ don't get mad at me. I-it was an accident. I-I _promise_ that it won't happen again. I-I-I’m s-so sorry. I promise that it won't happen _ever_ again. I-I didn't m-mean to do it,” Guzma cried as he pulled his legs to his chest with a whimper, “I-I’m _s-sorry_.”

Nanu blinked and forced his eyes to move back to Guzma's face as he frowned. “You’re sorry? What for? Guzma, what’s wrong?” Nanu asked as he approached the young man.

Guzma hid his face in his knees as he curled into a tight ball. “I-I’m s-sorry. I didn't mean to…,” he whispered.

“Guzma…,” Nanu murmured before he kneeled before him and gently placed his hand on the young man's knee, “Guzma, are you okay? What did you do?”

Guzma flinched from his touch but he didn't dare pull away. He slowly raised his head but continued to stare at the floor as he confessed with a whimper as he shook, “I-I h-had a nightmare a-and I...I w-wet the bed.”

Nanu blinked. “O-oh. Well...that's okay. You were scared. Stuff like that happens. Don't cry, okay? It's really not a big deal. It's okay, Guzma. I promise. You're okay,” Nanu said as his hand rubbed Guzma's back.

Guzma looked at him in alarm. The blind terror in his eyes replaced with panic and a familiar flash of self hate. “Wh-what? I-I ruined my clothes and your cot! I'm fucking twenty-one a-and I pissed myself b-because I got scared!” Guzma’s back hunched again as he took fistfulls of his hair and pulled on the white locks as his eyes changed again. “What the _fuck_ is **wrong with you** , Guzma?”

Nanu’s brows furrowed. Guzma was acting as if two different people stood before him. The panicked voice with attitude was meant for him, he knew that and recognized it, but the voice full of fear was directed at someone else. Someone who really would punish Guzma for an accident. Nanu gently took hold of Guzma's wrists and brushed his thumbs soothingly over his veins in an effort to ease his fears. “Guzma, calm down. Nothing is wrong with you. Everyone gets scared. Come on, how about you take a nice warm bath and I’ll wash your old clothes and get the couch ready for you to sleep on, okay?”

His touch must have grounded him for Guzma replied in a much more collected tone. “I’ll just ruin the couch too,” Guzma mumbled in shame.

“Even if you do, it’s okay. We can just clean that too. Don't worry, Guzma, I’m not mad. It was just an accident. Now let's get that shower started for you. I think I have some clothes that'll fit you although they might be a bit tight,” Nanu said as he stood up and held out his hand to Guzma.

The thug stared at his hand before he reached out, trembling, and pressed his hand into Nanu’s and allowed himself to be lifted up from the floor.

While Guzma showered, or more accurately, stood frozen under the shower head for twenty minutes, Nanu cleaned the cot and tossed all of the dirty clothes and sheets into the washer before he laid a new blanket and pillow on the couch for Guzma. After he finished setting up he went back for Guzma and helped him dry off and redress, this time wearing Nanu's boxers and sweatpants, and then led Guzma to the couch to sit down. The mess had been cleaned and easily forgiven, but Guzma still sniffled as tears dripped down his cheeks.

“Guzma, it's okay. I forgive you. It was just an accident. You don't have to cry,” Nanu murmured as he rubbed Guzma’s chilly back. He had never seen Guzma like this. Of course he's seen him cry before, but this was different from those other times. In the past he cried from annoyance, anger, and depression. This time he was crying with fear in his eyes. He was scared and Nanu had a feeling it wasn't from his dream.

“I-I ruined the c-cot,” Guzma stammered weakly.

“No you didn't. Everything is being cleaned and it'll be as good as new by morning. It's really okay, Guzma,” Nanu said as he moved to sit beside the thug and cleared his throat, coughing into his hand before he could speak again, “Do you...do you wanna talk about your nightmare?”

Nanu felt the young man shiver under his hand as he shook his head. “Alright, we don't have to talk about that. Could you...at least tell me why you’ve been acting so... _scared_ about your accident?” Nanu asked cautiously.

Guzma slowly drew his legs onto the couch and wrapped his arms around his legs as he hid most of his face in his knees. He didn't want to talk about that either, but it was talk about his reaction to the accident or talk about his nightmare. He swallowed hard and wiped tears from his cheeks as he nodded softly.

“Um, remember when you asked me if I got those scars on my back for being into dudes and girls? Well, I didn't get the scars from that but...I, um, I got them from...my father,” Guzma whispered.

“Your father?” Nanu repeated in alarm.

“Yeah. He...I was a disappointment to him. I fucked up a lot. Still do. When I was a kid I wet the bed almost every night. N-no matter what I did, even if I made sure to go before I went to bed, I still made a mess. My father...he resented that. I don't blame him. I was fucking twelve and still pissing myself when I slept. It was pathetic. So, he had to fix me. My father was also an angry person so his punishments became...cruel. He would...he beat me every time I had an accident. It was nothing more than a little slapping around and some bruises, but when I was twelve he hit me so hard that I...I crashed into the wall and dislocated my shoulder. I still have problems with my arm today. It pops out of place rather easily if I’m not careful. That's when I decided I had to stop having accidents, or at least get rid of the evidence so I wouldn't get beat for it. I was able to clean up my mess before he could find out and my father never hit me for wetting the bed again, but I didn't stop having accidents until I was seventeen. And apparently, I’m still not done,” Guzma explained in a rush, his fingers digging deep into his skin as shame hit him in waves.

Nanu wasn't normally an angry person. Well, he _was_ an angry person, he just hid it well. It took a lot to really rile him up on a surface level, but Guzma's father knew just the trick to piss him off. “Your father beat you...because of an accident?” Nanu asked slowly as he struggled to contain his rage.

Guzma smiled without amusement. “Yeah. Although that wasn't the only thing he hit me for.”

Nanu’s eyelid twitched as his hands curled into tight fists. No wonder Guzma was acting like this. His father belonged six feet underground, or at the very least in jail for the rest if his life. Before his anger boiled over Nanu took in a deep breath and released it to calm himself down. “Guzma, what your father did wasn't right. You, in no way, deserved to be treated that way,” Nanu stated bluntly.

“Of course I did, old man. I pissed myself until I was almost a fucking adult. Hell, I’m _still_ doing it. I was...I _am_ pathetic and totally deserved everything he did to me,” Guzma scoffed as he dropped his feet to the floor and glared at his lap.

“No, you _didn't_. You had a problem, Guzma, and your father was abusive to you because of it. He didn't help you resolve the issue and only punished you, that's not what a father does,” Nanu argued.

Guzma snorted as he rolled his eyes. He shifted away from Nanu, forcing distance between them as he glared at the officer. “Are you kidding? You’ve _seen_ what I do and what I’m like. I deserved _everything_ he did to me. I’m a destructive and selfish bastard. Do you know how much money I’ve stolen? How many pokémon I’ve poached? How many people I’ve put in the hospital because of my fucking bad attitude? How could you say that someone as bad as me doesn't deserve to have the shit beat out of them?”

“No matter how awful the person may be, that does not warrant for them to be _abused_. _It's not okay for anyone to be abused._ Good or bad, abuse is sick and wrong,” Nanu stated. His eyes spotted Guzma's hands clawing at his pants with a trembling white knuckle grip. Nanu took in a deep breath before turning to face Guzma head on. “Guzma, despite what you tell yourself, or what you let other people tell you, you aren't a bad guy. You’ve made a lot of mistakes. You’ve broken a _lot_ of laws. You’ve hurt people, but you aren't evil. You're **_lost_**. Your father taught you to hate yourself and see only flaws in everything you do. You need to see that you have worth, Guzma. I know what evil is, I’ve seen it countless times throughout my life, and you aren't it.”

Nanu gulped as he reached forward and loosened Guzma's hands from his pants with his own, but didn't let go. “Guzma, believe me, you’re _good_. At least you can be. Stop listening to what your father said.”

Guzma was struggling to swallow, his throat full of emotions he was trying to choke down as tears lined his lashes while he scowled. “H-how would you know?” he stammered, voice thick and beginning to crack.

Nanu squeezed Guzma's hands lightly as he allowed a soft smile to grace his lips. “Because a villain wouldn't ask every pokémon they catch if they would want to be their pokémon. Because a bad guy wouldn’t take care of me while I was sick. Because someone who is evil wouldn't be worried about whether or not they were a villain. Because **_you_ ** aren't a bad guy, Guzma.”

The scarred hands in Nanu’s grasp began to shake. Guzma began to hiccup as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. “Wh-why y-you gotta k-keep m-makin’ me cr-cry like a damn baby?” Guzma stammered.

Nanu chuckled gently as he reached up to brush Guzma hair from his eyes. “It's good for you sometimes.”

A tiny smile curled on Guzma's lips as he snorted in reply, before letting himself unravel as he openly sobbed into his hands. Nanu waited patiently in silence as he rubbed the young man's back, allowing Guzma to vent for as long as he wanted. After a while, his sobs diminished and his hands rubbed away all evidence of his tears and he was starting to act like his old self again. Although, Nanu still felt a ping in his heart at the sight of Guzma's red eyes and disheveled appearance. Wordlessly, Nanu grabbed Guzma's new blanket and tossed it over the surprised youth’s shoulders and wrapped him up in a warm cocoon of fabric as he formed a plan.

“How about I stay up with you for a bit? Give you some time to calm down before you go back to sleep,” Nanu offered.

Guzma looked nervous at the thought of sleeping again but he nodded as he tightened the blanket around him.

“Want to watch Pokémon Recovery? It's pretty much always on,” Nanu asked as he held up the remote.

“Y-yeah. That's fine. Don't really care,” Guzma shrugged as he grew embarrassed.

Nanu smiled in encouragement as he turned on the TV and said nothing more. After two episodes, Guzma had grown tired again, struggling to keep his eyes open before he relented and fell asleep with his long body leaning heavily against Nanu and his cheek resting on the officer’s shoulder. Nanu smiled softly as he brushed Guzma's bangs from his eyes and pulled the slipping blanket back up to Guzma's shoulders.

Finally.

They were making some progress.


	10. Fighting a Losing Battle

Guzma woke with a sudden jolt, body tense and heart hammering in his chest as he panted. His wild eyes took in his surroundings and ever so slowly his fear began to drain away. He was at the police station. He was safe. Guzma released a shaking breath as he sat up and passed a hand through his hair. Another nightmare. He glanced down at his lap. No accident this time. He might have to stop drinking water around six or seven at night just to stay safe. Nanu had told him not to worry about it, but that wasn't going to magically fix all of his problems. Speaking of Nanu…

Guzma turned his head to look at the man beside him. Nanu was slouching on the couch with his arms crossed over his chest, as drool dripped from his lips. He looked...rather peaceful. However, Guzma still felt guilty for Nanu falling asleep in such a position. He was sick, he should be laying down in his bed but instead he fell asleep next to him. Not to mention Guzma had woken him up in the middle of the night. His grey eyes flickered over to the clock on the wall. He’ll let Nanu catch a few extra hours of sleep and make it up to him.

Silently as he could, Guzma abandoned the couch and gently laid Nanu down in his place and covered him with the blanket that had been draped across his shoulders. Now he had to make breakfast. Nanu was still sick so that meant he needed something nutritional. Hopefully he could find something good.

It was almost ten o’clock when Nanu woke up. His own coughing pulled him from his sleep and it took a few minutes of Guzma rubbing his back and a glass of water for them to subside. Once Nanu could breathe with ease Guzma offered the officer medicine and a bowl of steaming soup.

“Sorry for making soup again. Only thing I could come up with that would be beneficial to your condition,” Guzma said as he set the bowl on the coffee table.

“Huh? Oh, don't worry about it, it’s fine. I’m just surprised that you made something again,” Nanu said with a tired smile. He expected Guzma to tell him not to get used to it, or to shut up, hell, even throw the soup in his face. Instead, Guzma merely shrugged before turning his back on him as he retreated back to the kitchen.

Ah. He was still tender about last night.

“Are you doing okay, Guzma?” Nanu asked carefully.

“Yeah,” Guzma replied. He still wouldn't look at him.

Nanu carefully lifted the bowl from the table and blew on the searing meal. He took a small sip once he deemed it safe and hummed in approval as the warm liquid coated his throat and filled his stomach. Guzma wasn’t a bad cook at all, but he was bad at hiding secrets. Nanu watched the young man from the corner of his eyes.

Guzma stared at the pot on the stove as he continued to stir the already finished and cooling soup. His grey eyes were dull and glazed, alerting Nanu that the boy was deep in thought. If Nanu knew Guzma like he thought he did, he knew those thoughts of Guzma's weren't good.

“You know what happened is natural, right? I’m not mad,” Nanu said before taking another sip from his soup.

Nanu's words pulled Guzma from his thoughts, his movements stilling at the reminder of what happened last night. He watched as the soup began to overheat while they sat in an awkward silence. Slowly the soup began to boil. Bubbles popped from the heat as Guzma swallowed and removed the spoon from the pot to switch off the flame. Setting the spoon aside, Guzma grabbed the handles of the pot and moved it onto an unlit back burner for it to cool down. “I know you believe that,” Guzma murmured as he wiped his hands on a towel hanging from the oven.

“It’s okay, Guzma. It’s not a big deal. It was just an accident,” Nanu reiterated.

Guzma’s eyes stayed trained on the pot as he said nothing.

Nanu frowned softly. Something was really bothering him. The incident, for sure, but there was something else about his behavior.

“Guzma...did you have another dream?” Nanu asked carefully. He set his breakfast aside, the bowl resting on the wooden table with a heavy _tunk_.

Guzma flinched, his whole body twitching as if the soup had still been boiling and spat at him. Guzma lowered his head, causing his curly white hair to shield his eyes. “Is that your question for today?” he murmured.

There was a pause. A reluctant sigh. A question hanging in the air. “I guess not,” Nanu relented.

“Then I won't answer it,” Guzma retaliated, his still body bursting into action as he grabbed his unused bowl and stuffed it back into the cabinet.

“Okay…okay, fine, we don't have to talk about it. We have to do something, though. I’m still unfit to travel to Po Town, so how about you train instead? Train with your cutiefly and learn his techniques and abilities and solidify your relationship. You can train against my meowths and I can supervise and provide first aid,” Nanu offered as he took his bowl back into his hands.

Guzma frowned at Nanu, life slowly oozing back into his distant eyes. “Train? Why would you let me train with my pokémon?” Guzma asked.

“Why not?” Nanu replied, voice echoing into his bowl as he sipped at the warm broth.

“Because I could hurt you? I know cutieflies don't look like much but they can be just as dangerous as any other pokémon. With efficient training I could escape from here with ease,” Guzma said in bewilderment.

“Guzma, you could literally escape _now_ without using any pokémon,” Nanu chuckled.

“So? What does that matter?” Guzma asked.

Nanu couldn't help but smile. “It means that you obviously aren't going to try and escape. If you won’t do it now, you won't do it later when you have a trained pokémon. Now stop stalling, let's get you and your pokémon started.”

Guzma didn't move as he thought over Nanu’s suggestion. He sighed. “Okay.” It was a good way to kill time and keep his mind off of things anyways. Guzma grabbed a pillow from the couch and tossed it onto the floor and flopped down onto it as he dug out the ultraball from his pocket. He released his cutiefly and set the ball aside, watching as his pokémon stretched itself. He should probably stop keeping him in there. Cutieflies don't take up much space anyways.

“Okay, so what now?” Guzma asked as he crossed his legs.

“You know how to train pokémon. Start training,” Nanu shrugged, his smirk falling when he coughed into his hand.

Guzma's eye twitched in annoyance. Sure he's trained pokémon before, but at least then he knew their stats. He didn't even know what level his cutiefly was at or even what moves he had. All he knew for sure was that the pokémon was in perfect health. Guzma passed a hand through his hair and rested his elbows on his thighs. “Alright, give my little dude a meowth to play with first,” Guzma sighed.

Nanu smirked again and gently whistled for one of his beloved pokémon. A meowth quickly responded, mewling as it skipped to Nanu's feet and pawed at his legs. “Hey there baby boy. How about you play with the cutiefly for a bit? Hm?” Nanu suggested as he reached down to stroke the meowth’s fur.

The meowth purred in reply and turned to face the cutiefly. Guzma watched in faint amusement as his pokémon puffed up his body in an attempt to look bigger and threatening. He was definitely a scrapper. It wasn't hard to imagine how the little turd got hurt in the first place.

The meowth released a low growl as it stared the cutiefly down. Sparkling claws slipped from the creatures lavender paws as it hissed in warning. Cutiefly only chirped in reply, completely unfazed by the other pokémon’s threats as his fur bristled more. There was a hushed silence. Everything was still. Meowth suddenly shrieked as it dashed forward, claws extended toward the cutiefly’s small face. Guzma bit the inside of his cheek as his fingers dug tensely into his thighs as he struggled to hold himself back from protecting the only pokémon he had. The meowth grew deadly close, and just as Guzma was about to intervene the cutiefly released a very squeaky (and very cute) battle cry as a silver burst of wind struck the meowth right in the face, causing it to fall back as it swiped at it’s damaged eyes.

Guzma held his breath as he watched his cutiefly hold its nose high in pride. The meowth snarled as it scrubbed tiny flecks of silver from its eyes while glaring at the cutiefly. Those tiny flecks of silver were scales. He’d know that move from anywhere. “Silver Wind. Bug Type,” Guzma murmured.

“Good. That's one move. Find the others,” Nanu urged.

Guzma nodded as he continued to examine the cutiefly. Silver Wind is a move that can be learned when they reach level thirteen. At least he knew the lowest level the cutiefly could be, and they evolve at level twenty-five, so he had a rough estimate. The meowth hissed as it charged again. It was a very naive pokémon. Nanu probably set that up on purpose. Guzma wouldn't admit it, but that innocent kindness grated on his nerves. He didn't want pity, and he didn't want anyone taking it easy on him. The cutiefly must have been thinking the same way he was for it seemed to snort as it frowned and released a blinding wind at the meowth, stunning the weak pokémon as it stumbled to a halt and blinked rapidly, struggling to see again.

“Fairy Wind. Fairy Type. Seems like you should'a picked a stronger pokémon, old man,” Guzma said offhandedly.

Nanu's expression didn't change. “Perhaps. But then again, you still only know two of your pokémon’s moves, and I know all four of mine,” Nanu taunted. He didn't have to smirk. Guzma could see just how smug he was by looking at his eyes.

Guzma's nose wrinkled under the thick bandage as he growled lowly. He didn't like to be looked down on, and not just because he’s competitive. “Little dude, hit ‘em with everything you got,” Guzma ordered.

The cutiefly nodded as he puffed up his chest and with a sudden burst yellow pollen lept from the cutiefly’s fur and coated the meowth head to toe. Guzma's eyes widened as the meowth let out a wounded shriek as he was suddenly zapped and surrounded by sluggish electricity, frozen in place. Now that was a move he really appreciated. Guzma couldn't stop a grin from splitting his face in two as he practically gloated while smirking at Nanu. “Stun Spore. Grass Type. A rather nasty move, isn't it? Can your pokémon even fight back?”

“I’m assuming no. My meowth is at a rather low level and I haven't trained with him yet, so I’m sure he's completely paralyzed, he’s not strong enough to escape it,” Nanu sighed as he rested his cheek in his palm with a miniscule smile, “You should be proud.”

Guzma shook his head. “Not yet. Little dude, drain him,” Guzma ordered.

Nanu's eyes widened as the cutiefly inhaled deeply. Green orbs emerged from the meowths body, circling around the paralyzed pokémon until it flew to the cutiefly and merged with his body. The meowth let out a pathetic mewl before collapsing, drained and unconscious at Nanu’s feet.

Guzma's cheeks hurt from smiling, but he didn't care. He won. He was practically giddy even though it was an unfair and ridiculously low level fight, a training battle no less, but it still felt good to win. It felt like he actually had control. Almost like he wasn't as weak as everyone had told him. It was _exhilarating_. “Absorb. Grass Type. As in your ass is grass and I _mowed_ it,” Guzma chortled.

“Congratulations,” Nanu said, almost brushing Guzma's words away as he gently lifted his fainted pokémon into his lap and pulled out healing supplies from the hidden drawer in the coffee table, “However, you should know that your training is far from over. You know your pokémon’s moves, but that’s all you know. You have to understand your pokémon’s temperament, his personality, his strengths and weaknesses, and especially his fears.”

Guzma's gloating smile came to a sudden end. “His fears? What does that mean?”

“Well, naturally everyone has fears, even pokémon, but your cutiefly went through a traumatic experience before you got him. He bears deformities and scars from that incident. I’m sure there's something he fears because of it,” Nanu offered as he began to patch up and clean his meowth.

Guzma frowned as his brows furrowed. His eyes dropped to his cutiefly who seemed to be smiling as he pushed out his chest in pride while he swayed from side to side, as if dancing. Guzma clenched his jaw. “No pokémon of mine will have fears. Hear that, little dude? No fear. Don't be a coward and don't even _think_ about blubbering like a baby or coming in second place, got it?” Guzma asked, his voice taking on a tight edge. The cutiefly's cheerful smile vanished and was quickly replaced with a serious, yet uncomfortable, nod.

“Guzma, it's _natural_ to be afraid. It's _okay_ to be afraid. The same goes for crying and losing,” Nanu said.

“No it’s _not_. Fear and crying and losing shows weakness and I don't have weaknesses. Neither will my team,” Guzma argued.

“Everyone has weaknesses, Guzma.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Guzma, you _do_ and that’s _okay_ -.”

“ **I’M NOT WEAK! I DON’T LOSE! I WIN! I HAVE TO WIN. WINNING IS _EVERYTHING_! LOSING MEANS I’M _NOTHING_! I CAN’T BE NOTHING AGAIN!** ” Guzma shouted, his face red and his breathing labored as he glared down at Nanu. He hadn't even realized that he stood up. Or that he had balled his fists.

Despite his rage and booming voice, Nanu hadn't even flinched at Guzma's outburst. He only stared at him with pity in his red eyes as he set his fully healed pokémon back onto the floor.

“You aren't _nothing_ , Guzma. Who told you that you were?” Nanu asked.

Guzma bared his teeth into a cruel sneer as he glared at Nanu. “You ask a lot of mother fucking questions, old man. If I have to hit you to get you to shut yer damn mouth I _will_ ,” Guzma threatened.

He was unfazed by Guzma's threats. It was like he didn't take him seriously. “It was your father, wasn't it?” Nanu asked.

Guzma felt the change. He felt how his whole body exploded with rage. How suddenly every move he made was stained with hatred as he leapt forward. His fist struck bone, the force knocking Nanu onto his back on the couch. Before Nanu could dare to speak again Guzma's clawed hand held on tightly to Nanu’s throat, straddling the elder man’s waist as he cocked his fist back with a wild look in his grey eyes. “You say _one more fucking word_ and I’m gonna break your fucking face in and snap your neck. I am _sick_ of you playing doctor with my head and I'm _done_ with you tryin’ to fix me. I don't need to be healed! Least of all by you! I like who I am,” Guzma snarled.

Nanu’s adam’s apple rolled against Guzma’s palm when he struggled to swallow the saliva building in his mouth as he strained to breath. His red eyes dulled as his nails clawed at Guzma’s arm. The skin on his cheek turning black as pained tears filled Nanu's eyes. “No...you don't,” Nanu croaked as his vision began to blur, “You...really fucking hate yourself. I saw...the scars.”

Guzma bristled at his words and released Nanu’s neck as he retreated with a gasp, now sitting on the arm of the couch as he watched Nanu with wary suspicion. “What are you talking about,” Guzma demanded, fingers digging deep into the couch as his heart raced.

Nanu twisted onto his side as he coughed into his hand, the rattle in his chest deepening as he struggled to get air to his lungs. He continued to hack until he spat thick mucus into his hand, sweat dripping from his brow. After he regained his breathing, Nanu groaned and pushed himself into a seated position, wiping the mucus onto his shirt as his other hand wiped the tears from his face. “I saw the scars on your thighs. I’ve seen the way you talk about yourself. I’ve seen the way you treat yourself. You _despise_ yourself, Guzma. You hate who you are...because your own father hated you,” Nanu rasped, his voice raw as he rubbed at his now bruised throat.

Guzma always had a high tolerance for pain. He had always handled it discreetly and quietly. No matter how much blood he lost or how many bones were broken, and no matter how long it took to heal, he kept his tears and suffering to himself. However, Nanu’s words were far from unbearable. It was more excruciating than anything he had felt before. It was like the older man had tore a hole into his body and ripped every organ out of him, heart first. The truth that Guzma had always known but had always ignored rolled off of Nanu’s tongue as if it were a well known, public fact. His father hated him. He couldn't deny it anymore. Guzma's father hated him.

“Guzma, why would you-?” Nanu froze. His eyes tripled in size as he stared at Guzma who slowly began to crumble and fall apart. Giant tears filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, his face contorted in immense pain as he shook and sobbed. His trembling lips parted. Air rolled from his tongue instead of words as he whimpered and struggled to speak.

“G-Guzma? What’s...are you…?” Nanu didn't know what to say. He had never seen Guzma like this. Even compared to last night. Last night he was scared. Now...now he was just broken.

“My father…,” Guzma gulped, body still shaking as his hand clutched at his aching chest, “My father hates me.”

Fuck. Fuck that is _not_ what Nanu had meant to do. He really should not have said that. “G-Guzma...th-that might not be true. What do I know? Right? I-I don't know your father and I barely know who you are. I...I’m sorry. I didn't mean to sound that harsh,” Nanu said. He pushed himself closer to Guzma and reached out to touch the young man, but stopped and dropped his hand into his lap. “Guzma, honestly, I don't know if he really hates you or not. I’m sorry I said such a thing.”

“O-of c- _course_ he hates me. Look at me!” Guzma wailed as he started to violently scrub the tears from his eyes, “I’m a-a _huge_ disappointment!”

“Guzma, you're not a disappointment,” Nanu countered.

“I am! He didn't even want me! I-I wasn't planned! H-he resented me! I never did anything right. I-I was a noisy brat wh-who wasn't good at anythin’. I cry e-easy. I-I was bullied; always r-ran instead of standin’ my ground, but they always c-caught me. I had o-only one friend. I was a p-pathetic son. The only w-way I could make him proud was by winning, b-but he hates pokémon. H-he thought battles w-were stupid, even if I w-won ‘em. I...I thought it was going to be worth it. To become champion and h-have my d-daddy see me f-for the p-powerful trainer I really w-was,” Guzma confessed, face drenched in tears as he smiled weakly at Nanu, “But I was t-too fucking weak a-and _lost_. Daddy _hates_ losers. He...he punished me f-for making a fool outta him and….” Guzma bowed his head as his cries overwhelmed him, leaving him unable to talk as he swiped at his eyes and hid his face from Nanu.

Nanu never admitted it, because he always hid it well and it wasn't his best quality, but he had a fast temper. It didn't take long to get his pot boiling. Guzma's father far exceeded making his pot boil. The whole damn stove has exploded at this point. For the first time in years, he _really_ wished he had a loaded gun in his hand.

“Guzma, the way your father treated you was wrong, okay? You did _not_ deserve to be treated that way. Your father is a heartless _monster_. You aren't worthless and you are _definitely_ not nothing. You are an _extremely_ talented and amazing pokémon trainer and the _toughest_ person I know. You _should_ be proud of what you can do, Guzma. Okay? Don't play by your father's stupid rules. Forget him. Let you be you, okay?” Nanu asked. He reached up and gently pried Guzma's hands from his face, his heart breaking at the sight.

A sob slipped from Guzma’s lips as he suddenly threw his arms around Nanu’s shoulders and pulled him close, hiding his face deep in Nanu’s neck as he hugged him while he cried. Nanu blinked as he stayed still, not used to people touching him, before he wrapped his arms around Guzma and hugged back.

“It’s okay, Guzma. You're fine. Let it all out,” Nanu said softly as his fingers combed through Guzma's curly hair.

“I-I-I’m so s-sorry for h-hurting you,” Guzma stammered.

“It's okay. That doesn't matter right now. Don't worry about it,” Nanu replied, hoping to steer Guzma away from guilty feelings. A sudden gasp spilled from Nanu when fingers brushed over his bruised throat, flinching at the sore pain.

“It d-does matter. I could have killed you. I-.”

Nanu silenced Guzma by hugging him tighter. “Don't. Not now, Guzma. It’s okay. Just...take it easy on yourself, okay buddy?” Nanu murmured.

Guzma nodded as he sank deeper into Nanu’s arms, allowing Nanu to hold him as he continued to cry until he couldn't anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol it's another crying one. I promise that will stop soon.


	11. Scar Stories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mentions of self harm, but self harm is not described.

Nanu couldn't remember the last time he had someone in his arms like this. Well, Acerola liked to climb into his lap from time to time and get him to braid her hair, but he didn't have those opportunities often. This was much different. The last time he has someone, an adult, in his arms was...hell, it was far too long ago. Was it a girlfriend? No, no it was a boyfriend, back when he was still on the force and carried a gun on his hip. He forgot how much he enjoyed being this close with someone. Nanu's hands rubbed soothingly along Guzma's warm back, body and mind at complete peace as he spoke. “Are you doing better now?” Nanu asked.

Guzma hummed softly as he nodded into Nanu’s shoulder. Very slowly his grip on the older man weakened as his arms slipped away while he pulled back. Guzma’s smile was small as he wiped the remaining tears from his tired eyes. “Yeah, I’m better now. Thanks, Nanu,” Guzma said.

Pink dusted Nanu’s cheeks as his heart stuttered in surprise. “That’s...that’s the first time you’ve ever said my name instead of calling me old man,” Nanu said with a tiny grin.

Guzma bristled as his face became red, then turned his head with an indignant but very weak snort. “Don't get used to it...old man,” Guzma mumbled.

“Heh, I’ll try not to,” Nanu chuckled.

Guzma smiled in response to Nanu’s soft laugh, but the look quickly melted into guilt as he stared at the dark bruise on Nanu’s cheek and around his neck. How could he do something like that? Sure, he was a violent person and yeah he’s fucked up plenty of people worse than he’d hurt Nanu and never regretted it, but they weren't Nanu. They hadn't tried to help him and they sure as hell didn't give a damn about him. Nanu did, and he hurt him.

“Uh, do you want me to get some ice for...y’know,” Guzma asked awkwardly.

Nanu blinked and reached up to touch his cheek, wincing at the pain he felt from the simple touch. “Um, yeah, if you wouldn't mind,” Nanu replied.

“Want some pain killers too? Or do you need to stick to the pills for your cold?” Guzma asked as he moved towards the kitchen.

“I’m fine without medicine. Doesn't hurt that much, really,” Nanu replied, moving to settle against the arm of the couch.

“You sure? It sounds like you have a lot of mucus in your chest. You need to get it out,” Guzma said. There was a faint _woosh_ as Guzma opened and closed a drawer. Plastic crackled as it was torn apart and ice clunked together as they were dropped into a bag two by two.

“It's not going anywhere with me just coughing, though. The medicine helps with the fever and induces coughing, but it doesn't help much in the way of breaking up the mucus,” Nanu shrugged.

“I...well, actually, I can help with that. I got sick a lot as a kid and my mom used to do this thing where she, like, hit my back with her hands cupped and it helped break that stuff up. She did it a lot for this kid at the hospital who had cerebral palsy and mad mucus build up. Then they got some machine that did it for her and was more efficient. Saved her a lot of trouble,” Guzma said as he handed the ice to Nanu after wrapping it in a thick layer of paper towels.

“Your mother is a doctor?” Nanu asked, sighing when he pressed the ice to his cheek.

“Nah. A nurse. Still convenient for my father, though. He didn't get snitched on because my mom could stitch me up at home,” Guzma chuckled darkly as he plopped down on the couch.

Nanu frowned, his temper sparking at the thought of Guzma’s father. If he ever met that man in real life he’d...well he’d have to arrest himself for what he’d do to that pathetic excuse of a human being. “Guzma...can we talk or...should I wait to ask my questions tomorrow?” Nanu asked slowly.

Guzma’s eyes dropped to his lap, then quickly moved to the floor as he pressed his legs together. “I guess now is a good a time as any,” Guzma murmured with a shrug.

Nanu nodded as he debated on how to approach the subject. Guzma knew what he was going to ask about, but that didn't mean he could be insensitive about it. Also, with the way he screwed up a few hours back he _really_ didn't want to make Guzma cry again. “Last night, when you were in my room and the blanket fell off you...I saw that your inner thighs were covered in scars. How...how did you get them?” Nanu asked carefully.

Guzma wrapped his arms around himself, scratching at his elbow as he avoided Nanu’s eyes. “I did it to myself,” he confessed.

An uneasy sigh fell from Nanu's lips as he nodded. That's what he suspected, but after hearing about how abusive his father was he...hadn’t been completely sure that his assumptions were correct. “When did you do that to yourself?”

“Um, well, I started doing it when I was fourteen. The, ah, the freshest ones are from about two and a half months ago,” Guzma admitted with a gulp.

Fourteen. That was so _young_ , but the worst part is that he was _still doing it_. Those scars on Guzma's thighs were _frightening_. He only saw them for a few seconds, but he remembered each one. They were all so long and the skin mended into high mounds atop the old deep wounds. It's amazing he didn't bleed out or get an infection. “Why did you...why do you cut yourself?” Nanu asked.

Guzma started to scratch and rub at the back of his head and neck as he grew more and more reluctant to answer. “It...it’s a way to cope and...have control. Expressing emotions isn't easy for me to do. I mean, you’ve seen it yourself. I stay angry all the time and with one minor inconvenience I crumble. As a kid, with my father around, it was even harder to deal with, especially since he prefers kids that aren't seen _or_ heard. So, I kinda just used cutting to...vent all of that. Helps me feel the emotional pain on a physical level which is easier to control and understand. It’s an easy distraction from stuff, too. Cutting just...helps me feel normal. Which, ironically, isn't a normal thing to do,” Guzma chuckled, a weak attempt to make a joke in a heavy situation.

Nanu didn't laugh. He couldn't, of course. Nothing about this was even remotely funny. “Guzma, if I asked you to, would you stop cutting yourself?” Nanu asked, keeping his eyes locked on Guzma's.

The weight of the question caused Guzma's grey eyes to meet with Nanu’s red irises. He gulped as his fingers began to nervously play with each other and tear at his nails. “I...I dunno if I can, Nanu. I just...I don't know how to deal with or hide emotions, negative emotions especially, and be quiet about it without hurting myself in some way. Not being able to have control of myself...terrifies me,” Guzma said. His fingers reached up to brush over the jagged scar on his forehead. He was really bad at handling emotions. The image of his father flashed through his mind and he recoiled at his own touch. Emotions were dangerous. Having them could get him killed.

“What if I told you that you don't have to hide your emotions? If you want to cry, or if you want to scream and yell and get angry, you can. Would you be able to stop then?” Nanu asked, voice hopeful.

“I...I guess so. I mean...I can try, at least. But...are you sure? My father made me hide my emotions for a reason. My emotions are...qualifiable for admission for a very long stay at a mental institute,” Guzma said. He remembered that one time he had broken his arm and wouldn't stop crying for hours upon hours. His father broke his ribs and put him in a concussion to shut him up. His father said it was the only time he was proud to have a son.

“Your father is a prick. It's healthier for you to have and feel emotions than to cut them out of yourself. Do you mind giving it a shot? I just...you can't hurt yourself anymore. It’s dangerous and unhealthy and I can't let you do that anymore, okay? It scares me that you even did it in the first place. You're unbelievably lucky that you didn't kill yourself or get an infection,” Nanu said.

“I have gotten an infection before. I just cut it open again and cleaned it out, though,” Guzma mumbled, flinching at the memory. That scar still hurts to this day. It's always been a bit tender to the touch.

“Guzma, _please_ ,” Nanu said, voice growing urgent.

There was fear in his eyes, Guzma could see it. He couldn't remember the last time someone looked at him with fear in their eyes and it _wasn't_ because he was about to hurt them, but because they were concerned about his wellbeing. Had anyone ever looked at him that way? Suddenly, two faces came to mind and his heart started to ache again. Plumeria and Kukui. Both of them had always looked out for him the same way Nanu cared for him now. Guzma took in a deep steadying breath before he smiled. “Yeah. I’m willing to give it a shot. Thanks, Nanu,” Guzma replied.

Nanu sighed in relief as he smiled gently in return. “Good. I’m glad. Thank you for trying,” Nanu said before casting his eyes to the TV as a way to quickly change the subject, “Want to watch some more Pokémon Recovery?”

“Yeah. Sounds good,” Guzma said with a true smile.

Nanu felt so relieved. They really were making progress.


	12. Visitor

Things between Nanu and Guzma had changed. Of course neither of them said anything about it, but Nanu would have to be dead to not see the difference in Guzma's attitude towards him. The young man was much more open than before. He almost seemed like a completely different person because of it. Those iron walls Guzma had bled to keep standing had fallen away and left the boy bare and unprotected, but Guzma didn't even seem to realize how incredible it was. Before, it took all of Nanu’s effort to get Guzma to expose just a small piece of himself. Now, Guzma did it without a thought. Words of Guzma’s past, emotions, and thoughts poured from him like a faucet and Nanu was a sponge eagerly soaking it all in. Even if his words did sometimes get rather ridiculous.

“I get that it’s classified as a canine, but there is no way you can look me in the eyes and tell me that riolu _isn't_ just a feline wearing a mask with fake dog ears to hide its identity,” Guzma scoffed. He jabbed his thumb down on the remote and muted the TV as he arched his brow at the elder man.

“Guzma, it’s a canine. Scientists don't just throw a dart at a board when they classify species. They did intense and extensive observation and came to the conclusion that riolu is in fact a canine based pokémon,” Nanu said seriously, then promptly stuffed a handful of popcorn into his mouth.

“Oh come on! Look at its ears! Those things are far too stubby to be canine ears! And look at that tail, since when do canines have fluffy tails like that? Much less with a tip that bends backwards! Riolu are felines posing as canines, believe me,” Guzma snorted defiantly.

Nanu gave him a deadpan stare. “Why would a feline dress up like a canine?”

“That’s the whole point of wearing a mask! They’re hiding their identity! They’re like ninjas!” Guzma huffed.

“Yeah...sure. I always thought they were more related to foxes anyways,” Nanu shrugged, shoving more popcorn into his mouth.

“Foxes are more related to felines than-! Ugh, never mind,” Guzma grumbled. He unmuted the television and continued to growl under his breath while glaring at the television with his arms crossed over his chest.

Nanu caught sight of his childish pouting from the corner of his eyes and smiled to himself. Guzma was fun to mess with. Normally it wasn't in his nature to bother and tease the hell out of someone, but he found that he couldn't help himself when it came to Guzma.

Their cheerful and comfortable afternoon was suddenly interrupted by the sound of knuckles rapping briskly upon the door. The two froze. Their eyes locked. Nanu silently set the bowl of popcorn aside as he motioned at Guzma's shoes hiding under the coffee table. “Get those on quick and go stand by your cot, okay? If something goes down I want you to run, alright?” Nanu whispered as he stood up.

“Y-yeah. I got it,” Guzma stammered. He pulled on his shoes quickly, looking nervous as he kept a close eye on Nanu as the officer approached the door. No one had visited the department since Guzma's first night there, nor did they ever visit before then. Having a visitor meant only one thing: someone was coming after Guzma.

Nanu’s calloused fingers brushed over the smooth metal of the doorknob as he watched Guzma’s movements from the corner of his eye. The boy was nervous, which surprised him. His eyes were blown a bit wide, full of anxiety and fear as they pushed all of their focus onto the door. Guzma’s hands trembled at his sides, surely feeling naked without a weapon in their grasp as he waited to see the monster on the other side of the door. Guzma looked as if this risk was completely new to him. It was odd. Nanu knew that the thug had been in far worse situations before.

Guzma licked his lips as he cracked his knuckles one by one with his thumbs. “Nanu, please be careful,” Guzma whispered, his gray eyes begging.

Oh. Guzma wasn't nervous about his own well-being. He was scared for Nanu’s personal safety. Knowing this warmed his heart, but it also worried him. However, there was no time to dwell upon the issue. Nanu nodded gently and with a steadying breath he opened the door just a crack and peeked outside.

“A-Acerola?” Nanu stuttered, taken by surprise as he opened the door further.

The little purple haired girl giggled as she flashed a brilliant smile at the elder man. “Hiya Uncle Nanu! I heard you were sick so I decided to come visit you and see how you're doing,” Acerola chipped brightly.

“O-oh. Well, It’s been almost a week since I’ve been sick, baby girl. I’m all better now,” Nanu said with a gentle smile as he opened the door all the way, welcoming her without using words.

“Oh, well that doesn't matter. It’s been awhile since I’ve seen you anyways!” Acerola said as she stretched her arms out towards him.

Nanu smiled as he chuckled softly. “It has been a minute,” he agreed.

Guzma watched as Nanu bent down and pulled the little girl into his arms, the two of them smiling as they hugged one another tightly. Guzma cast his eyes away as he ignored the pangs in his chest and opted for scratching his forearm. The action wasn't as satisfying as it was before. All of his wounds were now scarred and there was nothing left to peel. He’d tear at his nails, but he had no nails _to_ tear.

Acerola pulled away with a grin as she folded her arms behind her back. “So, what have you been up to, Uncle Nanu? Have you checked up on Po Town since Team Skull left?”

It was such an innocent question, one that anyone would ask, but Guzma couldn't help but feel defensive. Especially when Nanu cast a glance his way. “I’ve been there once or twice. I haven't really done anything to restore it. I am a police officer, after all. I don't work in construction,” Nanu said with an uneasy smile.

Guzma scowled as he crossed his arms over his chest. The taste of guilt on his tongue was revolting and beckoned him to spit it out. Instead, he spoke, “I can leave, if you want.”

Nanu winced as Acerola turned her head and stared at Guzma in surprise. Her face settled on a pout as she addressed her uncle again, “What’s he doing here?”

Wow. Who knew an eleven year old could shit on his whole existence in less than five words. Sure, the words themselves lacked hostility, but her tone sure didn't.

“Acerola, you see, Guzma is-.”

He didn't let Nanu finish. “I’m a prisoner, brat. Why else would I be in a damn police station?” Guzma spat as his brows furrowed further

“Guzma. _Language_ ,” Nanu said sternly.

Guzma's heart stuttered at his tone, his anger growing at the sight of frustration on Nanu’s face. So he was going to protect this girl over him, huh?

A soft giggle pulled Guzma's eyes back to Acerola who smiled brightly at the thug. “Uncle Nanu took you in too, huh?” she asked.

That...was not what he was expecting. “Whaddaya mean?” Guzma asked.

“Uncle Nanu has a bad habit of taking in wounded things, people and pokémon alike. Have you seen how many meowth he has?” Acerola snickered.

“How many meowth I have is none of your concern!” Nanu squawked, a blush settling on his cheeks, “Besides, it’s my job to protect!”

“You’re still using that excuse? Admit it, Uncle Nanu, you’re a big softy with a big ol' heart in your chest,” Acerola said, blinking her long eyelashes at Nanu teasingly.

Nanu blushed more, embarrassed by the little girl's compliments and flattery. Guzma couldn't believe that Nanu would be embarrassed about anything, much less someone complimenting him. The whole scene was silly enough to crack a smile on Guzma's face as he snickered. “He did rescue an injured cutiefly a few weeks ago,” Guzma admitted.

Acerola giggled into her hand as Nanu grew redder and redder by the second while he glared at Guzma in betrayal. “It was injured! What was I supposed to do? Let it die?” Nanu snapped.

“Saving is one thing, _hoarding_ is another,” Guzma snickered.

“How many meowth do you have now? Fifty?” Acerola chuckled before she and Guzma burst into laughter.

Nanu’s brow twitched, his blush spreading to his ears and down his neck as he glared at the two. “Joke all you want. Yuck it up. _Then_ we’ll see who gets to eat lunch,” Nanu grumbled as he stormed to the kitchen, “And I only have _ten_ meowth!”

The two only laughed harder, unable to control themselves even as they were threatened. They didn't stop until it became impossible to breathe as their heads ached and throbbed from the strain. Guzma wiped tears from his eyes as he straightens his back smirked down at the girl. “Yer alright, brat. Wanna watch Pokémon Recovery while Nanu makes lunch?” he asked.

A grumble came from Nanu, but his voice went ignored. “Yeah! I love that show. It's been airing since I was five, y’know? It's cool how it's still around,” Acerola chirped.

It didn't take Guzma long to figure out the type of person Acerola was. She babbled through the entire show, tossing out her own comments and perspectives and factoids with a wide smile on her face that was alarmingly infectious. She shared parts of her life easy. Offered stories of the orphanage, how Nanu saved her life when he found her crying and alone on the steps of his police station, her friends and her pokémon. Cheerful and optimistic no matter the topic. However, she never kept the conversation about herself. She asked Guzma many, many questions:

What is his favorite color? _Purple_.

How old was he? _Twenty-one_.

What is his favorite pokémon? _Golisopod, but cutiefly was a close second._

Why did he have so many piercings? _He thought they were cool._

What happened to his lip? _People hold grudges._

Did he have a girlfriend? _No_.

Did he have a boyfriend? _No, not a fan of romance._

She was sensitive and smart while asking her questions. If she could tell that a question touched a nerve she avoided the topic. She never once brought up his past. Never asked about Team Skull or its members. Didn't even have the urge to ask him why he did what he did. She was a good kid and made him feel...normal. She wasn't afraid of him. He could see why Nanu loved her so much.

“Do you have parents?”

The question caught him off guard. Guzma heard a knife clatter on the tiled floor but he didn't move his eyes away from the television. “I didn't come outta thin air, kid,” Guzma replied.

“I know that. I’m eleven, not four, but I mean...did you grow up with parents? I never really grew up with parents. My mom left me and my dad when I was a baby, and my daddy got real sick when I was two, so I don't remember much about him besides him being in the hospital. Uncle Nanu said that he wasn't ever really close to his parents, but still loved them. How about you? What were your parents like?” Acerola asked curiously.

“Acerola, I don't think Guzma wants to answer-.”

“You know, kid,” Guzma started, interrupting Nanu, “You’re pretty damn lucky to be an orphan.”

“I...am?” Acerola asked, looking unconvinced.

Guzma continued to stare at the television but his eyes were glazed and unseeing. “I would have loved to be in your shoes. Lemme tell you something. Unwanted pregnancies end in two ways: either they keep the child, or get rid of it. The first option seems humane, like it's the right thing to do. The second sounds cruel and heartless. In reality it's the other way around. Your mother chose to be merciful. You were a mistake, an unplanned child that she was desperate to get rid of, and so she left. She abandoned you and was never involved in your life again, never taking responsibility for you and never causing you problems. Your father was stubborn, but he was soon out of the picture. It was cancer, wasn't it? He probably knew he was sick by the time you were born. He should have just dumped you after your mom left, but he decided to be cruel and kept you. Lucky you, he died before he could really do any damage to your life. You were free. Nanu became your family and you were able to do as you pleased, and you were never a burden to your parents. My parents, on the other hand, chose to be ruthless. They despised me before I was even born. They kept me because they feared what people would say. They worried their perfect image would be marred by a bastard brat. So they got married. Married each other to keep their fucking reputation in place. Then I was born. I destroyed everything they had. I was the shit stain smeared on their perfect lives and I was punished black and blue for it. Both of our parents fucked up, but at least your parents could fix their damn mistake,” Guzma said.

Light sniffles and tiny hiccups tickled his ears, calling his attention to the little girl beside him. Fat tears filled the girl's eyes and rolled down her cheeks as her small hands clutched her dress tightly. “D-do...do y-you really think that?” she sobbed.

She was crying? Why was she-?

“Guzma!” Nanu snarled. He slammed the knife down onto the counter as he stormed over to them. He was seething. His teeth gnashed together as his hands balled into tight fists. Guzma watched with growing fear as Nanu towered over him, his heart thumping so hard in his chest he feared that it would burst free. Nanu snatched the front of his shirt and yanked Guzma forward, snarling in his face. “How could you say something like that to her! **_What is wrong with you?_** ”

Guzma stilled. Panic spread through his body like tangles of lightning as his eyes replaced the image of Nanu with someone much bigger and hungrier for his blood. Guzma slapped Nanu's hand away as he scrambled to his feet, ignoring the angry calls of the older man as he dashed for the door. A calloused hand caught his elbow. Memories of his father yanking him back into the room filled his mind, his own childish screams echoing inside his skull as he remembered his father's calloused hand striking him over and over again until he bled or broke.

“Don't touch me!” Guzma bellowed as he thrust his arm back, bashing his fist along the side of Nanu’s face as he wrenched his arm free. He ripped the door open and ran. His feet slapped the pavement until leaves and twigs crunched under his shoes as he vanished into the woods, Nanu's voice haunting him as he screamed his name.


	13. Smoking Anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for smoking/cigarettes.

He wondered if this is what it felt like to be dead. Muscles aching beyond repair. Body locked tight in a single position. His muscles were so strained and overused that they felt like water, or maybe the muscle has dissolved already. He couldn't remember how long it took for a human body to decay. Surely he hadn't been out here long enough for that to happen yet.

Despite the humidity, his body was frozen. It was impossible for him to move in such a weak state with his knees tucked by his chest and his arms locked around his legs, his face hidden from the world. Now that he thought about it, he had to be dead for insects crawled along his skin and sought to devour his decaying flesh. It wouldn't take long before his corpse would begin to smell, attracting larger creatures with sharp teeth and starving bellies. By morning there would be birds circling above his corpse, waiting to pluck whatever remained of his flesh from his bleached skeleton. He could accept this. This was a peaceful death and at least his carcass would finally be of use to someone.

Guzma's stomach cried out. He ignored it. Corpses didn't need to eat. He was only going to waste away. No point in using up food Nanu could eat.

Nanu...

Nanu's rage filled image appeared in his mind, causing Guzma to flinch as he struggled to push the thought away. The way Nanu had looked at him...it terrified him. It was the same look he had seen on his father's face countless times. That look always led to him bleeding and bruised on his bedroom floor. He couldn't believe that Nanu would look at him like that. Maybe his father had a reason for smacking him around after all.

Guzma's stomach growled again as sharp pains stabbed at the empty organ. A whimper fell from his lips as he hugged his legs closer to his chest. He chanted a mantra under his breath, telling himself over and over again that he didn't need food, but he still wanted it. He was such a whimp. Here he is trying to die and he's still clinging to life in any way he could. It was pathetic.

All thoughts of food and survival were pushed from his mind as he focused on something different. His cutiefly. He should let him out of his ultraball or else who knows what would happen to him if he were stuck inside with his master dead. With an uncomfortable groan Guzma unlocked his arms from around his legs. His aching arm struggled to find his pocket, and had even more trouble slipping inside. It was all in vain. Guzma gasped when his fingers found nothing more than fabric inside his pocket, gasping again when it was the same for his other pocket. He had left cutiefly at the station. His heart ached with each pathetic _thump thump thump_ as tears threatened to spill from his eyes again. So, he really was all alone. He lost his pokémon. He lost his gang. Nanu was mad at him. His life was hell. He had never felt anything besides hate, rage, and pain. Existence was nothing _but_ pain.

So why did he still want to live?

His stomach snarled, and he whined as he gave in and made up his mind. He had to go back. Nanu despised him, and was probably going to beat his ass for what he's done, but he had to go back. He had to apologize. He couldn't have Nanu hating him too. He prayed that an apology would be enough to be forgiven.

The trek was perilous. For anyone else it would have been a mere morning hike, but for Guzma it wasn't so simple. His body struggled to cooperate with him. His knees continuously gave out, causing him to smash his shoulders against trees as he tried to stay standing. His breathing was ragged, years of neglecting his own health clawing at his lungs as he stumbled through the woods. His mouth was so dry. He was probably dehydrated. Yet his tongue craved something stronger than water. Guzma groaned at the thought. It had been months since he had a drink. Plumeria had forced him to stop after he attacked one of their own. Four months was far too long without a drink. He could almost taste it now. The comforting burn of whiskey gliding down his throat. Hours of his life nothing more than a blur and erased from his mind, as if he didn't exist. He missed it so much. I was almost as good as being high.

Guzma broke free from the trees as his shoes struck muddy stones. He swayed on his feet as he stared at the station, unwilling to move any further. Nanu stood on the steps of the station with a cigarette clenched between his teeth and his hand stuffed deep in his pocket. His back was tense and perfectly straight with an alarming amount of crushed cigarettes at his feet. Nanu had been waiting for him. Guzma gulped at the thought as his heart gave a weak little jolt.

Nanu's eyes widened upon seeing him. His red eyes shining with relief before they became guarded and shy. “Guzma...you’re okay,” Nanu said slowly.

Guzma grabbed at his growling stomach as he staggered forward. “Uh, yeah, I guess,” he murmured. He watched Nanu take one last drag from his cigarette before dropping it on the ground and stomping out the embers. A new cigarette was placed between his lips and lit with a hiss of a lighter. “You smoke?” Guzma asked, breathing in the smell greedily.

“Uh, yeah. Not often. Only when I’m...worried about something,” Nanu said with a weak smile.

Guzma took another step forward, filling his tired lungs with the second hand smoke. “I haven't had a cigarette in ages,” Guzma admitted.

“You smoked?” Nanu asked, unable to hide the surprise from his face.

“Yeah. Been two months without,” Guzma said as he placed a foot on the first step, “Haven't been able to get any due to people wanting to kill me and all.”

Nanu searched Guzma's face as the young man ogled at the cigarette in his mouth. Nanu wordlessly plucked the cigarette from his lips and held it out to Guzma. The thug took it eagerly, taking a deep drag and moaning when he exhaled, smoke blowing back into Nanu’s face. “Thank you,” Guzma murmured.

Nanu swallowed weakly. His trembling hand stretched out slowly and took hold of Guzma's shirt. Guzma froze. Was Nanu going to punish him? With a surprising amount of strength he pulled him forward and Guzma clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the first strike. Instead, Nanu wrapped his arms tightly around Guzma, hugging him close with his face hidden in the young man's chest. Guzma's eyes widened as his heart lurched, beating like a violent drum. Nanu...wasn't going to hit him? Wasn't he angry? Why was he hugging him? Guzma's cheeks turned an embarrassing pink. Someone was touching him? When was the last time he had been held this close by anyone? Had he even been hugged before? He couldn't remember.

“I’m so sorry, Guzma. I’m so sorry I said that to you,” Nanu whispered, his breath warming the fabric of Guzma's shirt.

 _What is_ wrong _with you?_

Guzma flinched as the words echoed in his head. Those words used to only carry the voice of his father. Now those words had two speakers. “It's...it’s okay, old man. You had reasons for yellin’ at me. I did make Acerola cry, after all,” Guzma murmured. He couldn't see the girl anywhere. She must have gone home.

“It's not okay. You looked at me...you looked at me the same way you did when you had that accident. You looked at me like I was your _father_ ,” Nanu said.

"It's not because...I wasn't lookin' at you. For what it's worth I saw _him_ , not you. You aren't like him at all. The words just...triggered some bad memories," Guzma replied, trying awkwardly to make Nanu feel less guilty about what he said.

"...I'm sorry," Nanu murmured.

Guzma took in one last drag before he flicked the cigarette away. With a brave breath he wrapped his arms around Nanu, hugging him back. "It's fine, old man. I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have said that stuff to Acerola," he said.

Guzma felt Nanu's arms hold him closer, and by pure instinct he did the same. His eyes slid closed as his nose nestled in Nanu's white hair. He smiled to himself. He smelled like aftershave and cigarettes, like a dad.

Suddenly, Guzma's stomach growled in protest and the young man blushed as Nanu laughed.

"Come on, I bet you're starving. You missed lunch and dinner; lucky for you I saved a bunch of it for you in the fridge," Nanu said as he pulled away reluctantly.

Guzma released Nanu slowly as he smiled. "Thanks, Nanu."


	14. Shopping

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: brief mentions of pedophilia (no descriptions, literally only mentioned)

“How come you aren't havin’ me work on Po Town anymore?” Guzma asked. A cigarette flipped and rolled between Guzma's skilled fingers, defying logic as it resisted being bent. With a flick of his wrist the cigarette came to rest between Guzma's lips as he pressed a flame to the tip. Once lit, the lighter was tossed aside as he relaxed back onto the couch with his arms folded behind his head and a peaceful expression on his face. Nanu had originally resisted the idea of Guzma smoking inside, but at the rate he smoked he’d spend far too much time outside and out of Nanu’s sight, which risked Guzma's safety. So he caved and Guzma was allowed to smoke indoors.

“The only thing left for you to do is pick up trash and remove your personal belongings so that construction can begin. You can see why I would be hesitant to force you into that situation,” Nanu said.

Guzma's grey eyes flickered over to Nanu before returning to the wall. He was right. He would be a total mess if he were asked to move his stuff. It's not like he said it, ever, but Po Town was...pretty much the only home he ever had. “Why are you considering my feelings? Ain't a cop just supposed to get shit done no matter what?” Guzma asked.

Nanu chuckled as he continued to write on a small paper he had been engrossed with for some time now. “I may be a cop, but I'm a human first. Legally that mansion isn't yours, but emotionally you made it your home,” he replied.

Guzma hummed. It bothered him that Nanu could read him so well. He took hold of his cigarette and released smoke from his mouth. He watched as grey rings floated to the ceiling and scattered into nothingness. “People ain't gonna be happy about me just hangin’ out here,” he sighed.

“I know, that's why I’ve decided that you're gonna start doing odd jobs around Ula’Ula. It’ll help integrate you back into the community and help the citizens come to trust you,” Nanu said as he set his pen aside and pushed himself away from the kitchen table. With a few _pop pop pops_ of Nanu's flip flops he came to stand above Guzma as he held out the slip of paper.

Guzma raised a brow as he took the paper from him and read the tightly scrawled words. “A grocery list?” he asked.

“We’re going shopping. The first person you’re going to help is me. It’ll get you outta the house and maybe we'll find a few jobs for you to do,” Nanu said with his crooked little grin. If Guzma didn't know any better he'd say that Nanu was actually _excited_ about this idea.

“Fine, but the only way I’m doin’ this without bitchin’ is if you get me another pack of smokes,” Guzma retorted as he stuffed the paper into his pocket.

Nanu chuckled as he ruffled Guzma’s hair playfully, “Already on the list. I’ll even buy you some clothes to sweeten the pot.”

“Good. I’m tired of wearing these damn shorts all the time,” Guzma grumbled as he snagged Nanu’s hand away from his hair and yanked him off his feet, pulling him onto the couch as he stood up, smirking deviously as he took Nanu’s place on the high ground, “It was pretty pervy of you to get me shorts that are so short.”

“Kept you from running away,” Nanu shrugged.

They didn’t waste time getting on the road. However, it was taking forever to get off the road. Guzma had forgotten what a ridiculous trip it was to Malie City without a charizard. Granted, Guzma had never traveled by said flying beast for personal reasons, but whenever they needed something around the mansion he was never the one to go, it was always a grunt’s job. He seriously undermined the dreaded amount of travel one would have to go through. There were ferries and trains and in some places planes as way of travel, but all were expensive and time consuming, traveling by pokémon was the fastest and cheapest option. Which went without saying that it was the exact option that Nanu took. Guzma honestly wouldn’t have minded if, y’know, they didn’t have to _share_ the pokémon they rode. It wouldn’t hurt if Nanu didn’t speed either. All Guzma could do on the sharpedo was cling to Nanu’s back as he prayed that he wouldn’t lose his breakfast so early in the day while they shot through the rocky waves, crashing through rocks instead of evading them because apparently _evading_ “took up time”. Guzma argued that it would actually add _onto_ his life expectancy if Nanu did avoid them. Once they reached the shore, Guzma was only given a few seconds to worship the ground before the was tossed onto a stoutland. Nanu claimed that he always rode this pokemon through grassy and sandy areas in hope to find hidden treasures. Guzma was sure that the old man just wanted to watch him sweat a little more as the massive canine bounced from side to side as it followed faint scents. Then came the fucking mudsdale. Not only was the ride rocky on route twelve (no pun intended) but the creature’s gait was small and deliberate, causing it to move slowly as it maneuvered over sharp stones. By then Guzma was ready to just pass out from feeling so queasy for so long. Who knew he got motion sickness? He sincerely regretted learning this bit of information about himself. By the time they arrived at their destination Guzma was more than ready to beg Nanu to move to Malie City so that they never had to take that trip ever again.

“Everything fucking _hurts_ ,” Guzma groaned. He swayed from side to side in the saddle as his stomach tried to settle. His imbalance took advantage as he leaned too far to the left and fell off the mudsdale onto his back on the ground.

Nanu gave the mudsdale a thankful pat on the side of it’s neck before dismounting and sending it back into the pokéball. He turned to smirk down at Guzma, his teeth flashing in a teasing sneer, “What? Not used to riding, or are you just not used to having something between your legs?”

A scoff fell from Guzma’s lungs as he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I can guarantee that I’ve seen way more action than you ever had, old man.”

Nanu choked on his snort, trying to hide his grin as he scratched his nose. “Yeah. Sure. Let’s go with that,” Nanu replied, trying his best not to break.

Guzma raised a brow as he forced himself to sit up. “What? You been involved in an orgy or somethin’? Cuz you’d have to be involved in at least one of those to beat my record, old man,” Guzma said with a proud grin.

Nanu didn’t even bother to respond, nor did he even look back at Guzma as he smiled to himself, his red eyes smug and proud. Guzma recoiled, his face twisted in comedic disgust. “Ugh...man...oh man that’s gross. Dude, like, please tell me you did that when you were young. If you did that recently no _wonder_ you complain about body pains all the time. Ew. I’m imagining it. Please tell me they didn’t do buk-.”

“Let’s start with clothes shopping. That way if we buy any cold food it won’t go bad,” Nanu interrupted as he headed into town.

“Whoa! Hey! Wait for me, old man!” Guzma called out as he scrambled to his feet and chased after the elder man.

It didn’t take long for them to draw attention. Eyes followed their every moment, gaping at Guzma’s audacity for entering their dear little city. A dark scowl marred Guzma's face as he held his head high and straightened his back to his full height. He wasn't going to let them beat him down. He was an asshole and he did a lot of shitty things, but he still had pride. However, that didn't stop him from hearing their whispers.

“Why isn't he _dead_?”

“Or at the very least in jail.”

“Look at how proud he is. That monster is never going to change.”

“I heard that his pokémon were stolen from him.”

“Good. He doesn't deserve to own any after what he’s done. Hell, he would probably sell his own pokémon for the right price.”

Guzma ground his teeth as his eye twitched. They talked as if they knew him personally. What a joke. They wouldn't know the first thing about him.

Nanu stilled, causing Guzma to run into him from behind. “Damnit, old man why did you sto-.” His frown deepened as he caught sight of the man blocking their way. Nanu recognized him as same man who came to the door all that time ago demanding for Guzma's head. He was nothing more than a wall of bulging muscle and height that exceeded Guzma's by two inches. His hateful eyes scanned the punk's body as if to size him up, but he only spoke to Nanu, “Nanu, what is this piece of disgusting _garbage_ doing here?”

Guzma knew that voice. Even through the deafening sound of rain and thunder there was no mistaking it. Guzma could feel his anger begin to boil. This man had hurt him. That was something even Guzma could forgive because he knew he was a piece of shit and deserved it, but there was no way he could forgive a _thief_.

“Alex, don't interfere with-.”

“Aw, you shouldn't talk about yourself like that, man,” Guzma sneered, his grey eyes haunting and cold, “You might just blow yer goddamn brains out. I don't take any enjoyment outta breakin’ the necks of corpses.”

“I can't believe you're defending someone so vulgar, Nanu. I used to respect you. You were a good cop, but now you're taking pity on monsters and killers in your old age,” Alex sneered, his eyes still boring into Guzma's.

“Don't drag him into this,” Guzma spat as he positioned his body in front of Nanu, “You’re just pissed that you can't kill me while I'm under his care. Heh, as if you could before. People like you are so easy and _predictable_.”

Alex hid his reaction well as his dark eyes pierced through Guzma's soul. “Those are some nice scars on you. Your nose looks like it took quite a pumbling,” he said, his tone carrying a threat.

Guzma gingerly touched the large bump on his healed, but now no longer straight nose. “Pretty aren't they? I still gotta pay you and your buddies back for your work. You did such an amazing job, I’m thinkin’ about fixing that face of yours as payment. Maybe if I push your nose in deep enough it'll cut right into your miniscule brain. If you become a vegetable you won’t have to pay for food or bills, and hell, you won’t have to pay for the hospital bills either. Maybe if ya get lucky I’ll make it even easier and just kill you,” Guzma snarled. His body slipped into a guarded stance as he held up an angry fist while his grin curled. “I also gotta get revenge for my pokémon. I’m sure they hate being in a new place without their daddy. So whaddaya say? Wanna see how much blood is in your body?”

Nanu reached out with his calloused hand and took hold of Guzma’s fist before gently pulling the young man’s arm back down to his side. “That’s enough, Guzma. Don’t create more trouble for yourself,” Nanu said, his voice soft despite the situation.

“But old man he-!”

“Guzma, _please_ ,” Nanu pressed. His fingers gave Guzma’s wrist a begging squeeze.

He almost argued, but the look in Nanu’s red eyes was too urgent. His body relaxed and his back hunched as he slipped his hand into his pocket, but left the other in Nanu’s comforting grasp. “Okay,” he mumbled.

Nanu nodded, grateful that the young man listened to him, then his red eyes burned as he glared up at Alex. He was over a good foot shorter than Alex, and not even a fourth of the man’s weight, but there wasn’t a drop of intimidation in his body. “It appears that you haven’t been completely truthful with me, Alex. Since I am technically not on duty and have plans for today, I will not take action. However, if you continue to harass Guzma I will personally _take_ _you down_. With that said, have a good day, stay out of our way, and don’t be stupid and leave town. I have some questions I want to ask you later,” Nanu warned hotly.

Alex bristled at Nanu’s words but didn’t dare argue. Nanu tugged on Guzma’s wrist and pulled him along. As they walked by Guzma’s shoulder clipped Alex’s. Their eyes were still intensely locked as Guzma bared his teeth in threat and whispered, “When Nanu isn't watching, I’m gonna rip your throat out.”

Once Alex was long behind them Nanu started to speak. “Guzma, you can't start picking fights like that. People aren't going to trust you if you act like a wild animal,” Nanu berated. He didn't dare let go of Guzma’s wrist.

“That bastard-!”

“I get it. He was the one who attacked you. I know that, but we need evidence, Guzma. We can't go by your word alone,” Nanu interrupted.

Guzma frowned as he growled under his breath. “You know the government is fucked when a cop tells ya that the victim's word ain't worth shit,” he scoffed.

“That's not what I’m saying. The people of Ula’Ula...hell, everyone of Alola doesn't believe in a word you say. Without evidence the people are going to revolt and call you a liar,” Nanu said.

Guzma finally stopped in his tracks, pausing Nanu in the process, and pulled his hand free. “Nanu the people are revolting just from you giving me a second chance! I could spend the rest of my life telling the truth and no one would ever believe in me!” Guzma argued.

Nanu searched Guzma's eyes before he sighed and dragged a hand down his face. “Look, Guzma, you just have to trust me on this, okay? Not everyone in Alola is like Alex. There are people who believe in you, and there are people who will, but you have to give them time. Be who you really are and show them that you’ve changed. You have to prove that the Guzma they knew is _dead_ ,” Nanu said honestly.

He had to prove that the Guzma he used to be was dead? That was going to be a problem. A big one. “If I act like the Guzma they knew is dead, then I wouldn’t be myself at all. I haven't changed, Nanu,” Guzma replied.

Guzma’s words held enough weight to keep a steady net of silence between the two and held back the numerous questions that resided inside their busy minds. The lack of sharing words with one another left a massive breach in Guzma’s protective bubble as the people of Malie started to gossip. He could feel their wet eyes devouring his body in search for flaws, their tongue passing judgement upon his physique and his clothing. He heard every cruel remark they made. They started with his clothes. That’s where bullies always started. They mocked his shorts, tossing in offensive slurs about his gender and sexuality for good measure. They spat upon his piercings and tattoos, the religious types stating that their deity should have blown a hole through his head for marking his skin in such sacrilegious ways. Guzma prayed that if their god was in fact going to punish him in such a way, it would hurry the fuck up. They laughed at his hair and the way the white was quickly draining from his locks as the black returned, joking about how his hair looked as if he were going gray. Little did they know that was the actual truth. Getting gray streaks in curly hair at twenty, sometimes even during high school, was a common family trait on his mother’s side. The town picked him apart piece by piece, and his only saving grace from killing each and every one of those citizens was Nanu taking his hand and leading him inside a clothes store.

“With money set aside I can only afford to get you three days worth of clothes. Will that be enough for now?” Nanu asked. He pulled on the collar of his shirt, soaking in the air conditioning and thankful that he hadn't worn his uniform today. It was far too hot outside to wear that much black. He was surprised that Guzma had even worn his jacket, although Nanu had a feeling it was more of a comfort decision than a fashionable one.

“I don't even need that much. I’m not one for changing clothes,” Guzma shrugged.

“You’ll need them. Besides, you might find something so ridiculous that you can’t help but want to wear it,” Nanu said. He pulled a shirt from a rack nearby and held it to his chest. The shirt was an offending neon pink with streaks of equally bright green and blue and looked to be from a generation that passed long before Guzma was born.

Guzma couldn't help but snicker as he took hold of the hanger and pulled it over Nanu’s head so that the shirt hung in place. “Okay, I get _two_ outfits and _you_ buy that shirt for yourself,” Guzma said with a wide grin.

Nanu glanced down at the shirt and sighed. “If it’ll get you to cooperate, I guess it'll be worth the price,” he admitted.

“Hell yeah it will. But you can't just wear that thing as a nightshirt. You have to wear it in public at least _once_ and _I_ get to decide when you do,” Guzma bargained.

“Alright, alright, I’ll wear the thing in public when you tell me to. I get it. Stop stalling and go pick out some clothes for yourself,” Nanu said with a dismissive wave.

Finding clothes for Guzma was difficult in numerous ways. First, it was nearly impossible to find clothing in his size. Not very many people were as tall as he was so finding clothing that was long enough was a challenge. Second, other customers continued to get in the way. Either they blocked Guzma from a rack, or they purposely knocked him around with a purse or elbow. Guzma had grown closer and closer to snapping with each disrespectful act, but was soon soothed by a gentle squeeze on his wrist or a hand rubbing on his back from Nanu.

Suddenly, while browsing through a few shirts, Guzma's vision darkened as sunglasses were pushed onto his face and nearly caused him to jump out of his skin.

“H-hey! Old man what's the big idea!” Guzma snapped.

“They look kinda like the ones you used to wear,” Nanu said as he pointed at the mirror.

Guzma blinked and turned his head. He was shocked. Nanu was right. The glasses looked almost exactly like his old ones, right down to the yellow plastic frame. The only difference was that both lenses were completely round, and his old sunglasses had a lense and a half.

“Do you want them?” Nanu asked.

Guzma blinked again and turned his gaze back to Nanu. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah. You're old ones were taken from you, after all,” Nanu shrugged as he stuffed his hands into his pockets.

Guzma looked back at his reflection. He looked like his old self, but he also looked different. However, he felt like himself, which is something he hadn't felt in a long time. “Yeah. If you have the money for it...I’d love to have them,” Guzma said with a smile.

Nanu smirked in return as he nodded. “Not a problem. Now go try on those clothes and make sure they fit.”

“Will do, officer,” Guzma teased as he walked off.

Nanu smiled after the young man, but flinched when light bounced off the mirror and shined on his eyes. He quickly retreated into the shadows and struggled to find a position where the sun wouldn't shine directly on his face. Or really exist, for that matter. A headache began to form as he groaned and rubbed his temples. He really should have put on sunscreen before they left. He should probably buy some at the store before they go back home. Making the trip here without it was a bad enough idea already.

Guzma stepped inside a changing room and pulled the curtain closed with a sigh. They had only been here for an hour but he was already exhausted. He had been quickly reminded why he doesn't like people and shopping. Before his temper could flux again Guzma pushed the thoughts aside and started peeling off his clothes. He kicked off his shoes as he tugged off his shirt and tossed it aside. His eyes avoided the mirror as he hooked his thumbs in his shorts and pulled them down.

Metal rings shrieked as the curtain was ripped open, exposing Guzma's body to the store. Guzma bristled as he whirled around, eyes wide as he stared at the man who held the curtain open.

“Oops. My bad,” he snickered before walking away, leaving the curtain wide open for everyone to see.

Cackles and snickers filled the store as everyone pointed and stared. Guzma's breathing became labored as the scars on his thighs burned. He watched in horror as each person twisted and transformed into wicked shadows from his past that towered high above him. Tears burned in his eyes as the demons’ badges shined brilliantly on their heartless chests, and he soon found couldn't breathe, as if a fist much bigger than his had struck his chest.

Suddenly, a pale hand snatched the edge of the red curtain and wrenched it shut, leaving Guzma alone in the darkness as laughter echoed in his head, his gray eyes turning cold and lifeless.

Nanu's red eyes glowed with fury as he released the curtain from his clawed grip. “Who did this?” he snarled.

All laughter ceased. No one moved.

Someone took a step back and Nanu’s eyes locked onto the offender. The man was taller than him, younger than him, even had more muscle than him, but there was no way he could outrun Nanu’s wrath. Before the man could even think to move again Nanu had a handful of his shirt and in a flash his fist struck the man's face. Blood gushed from the man's nose and then thrown to the ground. Nanu was unfazed by his screams as he continued to glare at the crowd surrounding him.

“Let this be known because _apparently_ it needs to be said. Guzma is under my protection! On or off duty, he is my responsibility! If anyone so much lays a finger on him or _assaults_ him in any kind of manner, I _will_ take action. While I’m off duty, you will escape going to jail,” a cruel grin split Nanu’s face as he pointed at the blood smeared along the floor and on the man's face, “But when I’m off duty I can cause you _harm_. So tread carefully. Watch yourselves, because I won't ask questions before I bite.”

His eyes flickered to every frightened face before he turned his back to them and approached the dressing rooms. He willed himself to take a few deep breaths, struggling to push out his anger before speaking. “Guzma? Guzma, are you okay?”

He waited, but Guzma never replied. “Guzma...may I come in?” he asked. He feared that Guzma wasn't going to speak to him. Nanu’s temper sparked and he glared over his shoulder. He watched with satisfaction as they flinched from his stare. The injured man was gone, but there was a lot of blood left behind. As an officer, he should be ashamed of himself. As a depressed old man with a temper, he didn't give a shit if the guy _died_. Not after what he had done.

Guzma's hollow voice suddenly ghosted through the curtain with a soft, “Okay.”

Nanu turned his eyes back to the dressing room and carefully made a small opening for him to slip inside before quickly shutting the curtain behind him.

He really wish he had killed that guy.

Guzma sat huddled tightly in the corner, his long body bunched up into a small ball. He had pulled on a pair of jeans they planned to buy, and his jacket was pulled back onto his shoulders and zipped up all the way up with the hood covering his face.

“Guzma, are you okay?” Nanu murmured.

He didn't expect Guzma to answer. He didn't have a reason to. No one could be happy and okay after something like that. The kid didn't _look_ okay either. He looked eerily lifeless.

Guzma didn't move, but he spoke, “I...really hate cops.”

Okay. Ouch. “Present company included?” Nanu joked with a halfhearted chuckle, then his smile faded away.

Guzma lifted his face from his arms to lean his temple against the wall. His grey eyes were distant and devoid of emotion, the sight was frightening on such a young and resilient man’s face. “My father knew them. He was friends with all of them. He used to be one...until he got an injury on the job,” Guzma murmured.

Nanu moved to lean against the opposite wall, and after a few seconds of silence he slid down to join Guzma on the floor. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked.

Guzma stared at the wall as if his answer was written on the surface. “They knew what my father did to me. They watched my father punish me. They found it funny, and they made a game out of it. They loved scaring me and threatening me. It was amusing to them. I became their entertainment at their poker games and during commercials that interrupted their sports. I was there for them to take their anger out on. I was there to be more pathetic than they were. I was nothing more than a body for them to use.”

Nanu swallowed hard. “Did...did they...touch you?” Nanu whispered. He could barely choke out the words. He feared to hear the answer.

Guzma's dull eyes rolled over to Nanu. “No. Not in that way,” Guzma said as he looked away, “But I know one of them wanted to. He liked opening the door on me while I was changing or in the bathroom. He even came into my room one night and...I knew he was going to try something. Luckily my wimpod bit him which was enough to scare him away, permanently.”

Nanu released a shaking sigh as he held his hand over his racing heart. He was so relieved that nothing happened, but at the same time that relief was only for the physical level. Even though that piece of shit never touched him, it was still scary as hell to be preyed on, especially at such a young age. Having that curtain yanked open on him brought back all of those impressionable memories. Nanu wished he could erase them, and the people that caused them.

“Guzma...I’m sorry. You should have never gone through that. You shouldn't have been put in that situation. I...I’m sorry I couldn't help,” Nanu said. His voice wavered as tears threatened to burn in his eyes. He scrubbed them away as images of Guzma, tall for such a young thing but frail, smiling as he ran with his friends past a younger Nanu flashed behind his eyelids. He remembered the next day the boy walked alone with his head low and bruises along his skin, walking past Nanu who hadn't spared him a glance, too self absorbed to help or to care. He could have helped. He could have saved Guzma from all of this.

Guzma smiled softly as he watched Nanu try to collect himself. People always cried when kids were involved in gruesome tales. “You didn't even meet me until I was twelve. That all started when I was really little. You couldn't have done anything to stop it,” he replied.

Nanu pressed the heel of his hands against his closed eyes. He choked on his emotions while his memories and imagination clashed. His heart ached in his chest as he counted each bruise on Guzma's body from his memories. He was so tied up in his own issues when he moved to Alola that he never saw how that little boy had hung himself with his. He had seen that little black haired boy countless times. He had seen the bruises and the cuts and the sadness in his eyes but he never stopped once. He abandoned him. He could have changed everything for that boy...but he did nothing. What Nanu had seen was only the tip of the iceberg. If that wimpod hadn't been there to protect him...if Guzma hadn't run away. Horrific images of Guzma’s possible fate twisted Nanu's stomach as he started to feel sick at the possibilities.

This was his fault.

I’m...so sorry. I should have helped you. I should have done something. I was so selfish and-and I just...I let you hang yourself,” Nanu stammered, tears crawling down his lashes as his guilt increased.

Guzma let out a soft hum as he smiled softly at the older man. “I didn't expect you to help me. I remember what you were like, Zombie of Alola. You had hung yourself too, but yet you continued to move. I decided to do the same,” Guzma said.

Nanu scrubbed at his face as his emotions rolled through him like a tidal wave. Guzma pulled out a cigarette and lighter from his jacket and set the stick aflame. “There's no worse luck than being alive,” Guzma admitted as ghostly smoke crawled from his pale lips, “And we’re the dumb bastards who still keep trying.

Nanu's jaw flexed. “Guzma...being alive isn't-.”

“None of it matters anymore,” Guzma murmured before surprising Nanu by tossing him a lighter and cigarette as a lazy smile spread across his lips, “What they did to me doesn't matter. What that guy just did doesn't even matter. Definitely not worth the skin on your knuckles.”

Nanu bristled. “You...how can you laugh that off? That jerk exposed you to the whole store and…,” Nanu glanced down at Guzma's covered thighs, “They saw your scars.”

Guzma scratched his head as he laughed. “Yeah. It was rather rude, but overall harmless. I mean, I wasn't naked at least. Besides, people won't trust me if I lose my temper. That would defeat the whole purpose of...well, my punishment and everything we’ve been doing for the past month or so.”

Nanu only stared at Guzma before he sighed and lit the cigarette in his hand. “Just because I said you couldn't pick fights doesn't mean you can't protect yourself or have _emotions_ , Guzma,” Nanu murmured.

“It’s one in the same, isn't it?,” Guzma chuckled as his eyes traced over Nanu’s bloodied and bruised knuckles.

Nanu clenched his jaw before staring straight into Guzma's eyes, “No. It’s not. I don't care how it looks. If someone tries to hurt you or upsets you, defend yourself. If for some reason you can't, I’ll protect you myself. I promise.”

Guzma's smile faded as he continued to stare at Nanu’s cut and bruised hand. “That’s what I’m trying to avoid, old man,” a sick grin slithered across Guzma’s lips, “Besides, no offense, but a cop’s promise doesn't mean jack _shit_ to me.”

It took over an hour for Nanu to collect himself. His anger slowly boiled down to a simmer, causing him to scowl and growl under his breath as he clutched a cigarette between his tightly gritted teeth as he threw the curtain aside. Guzma followed Nanu at a leisurely pace as the elder man stormed up to check out. No one dared make eye contact. No one said a word about their cigarettes.

“I-i-is this all f-for you today, sir?” the girl stammered.

“Yes,” Nanu replied curtly.

The girl jumped at his tone and quickly ducked her head, but not before she snuck a glance at Guzma.

Guzma’s brows furrowed as he studied the girl's face. She seemed familiar. He didn't recognize her face, but her eyes...he had seen them somewhere before. His attention was suddenly torn away, his sharp ears catching their distant murmurs. For once they weren't about him. They were about Nanu.

“His temper is as bad as the Team Skull Boss’.”

“He’s hardly a real cop as it is. No wonder he gets away with threatening us.”

“I wish he was still the Zombie of Alola. Then he wouldn't interfere.”

Guzma frowned. There were already repercussions from Nanu protecting him.

“Hurry up. I want out of this damn place,” Nanu snapped, pulling Guzma's attention back.

“Y-yes sir. I’m sorry, sir,” the girl stuttered as she struggled to quicken her pace as she folded the clothes and bagged them.

Her long wavy locks slipped over her shoulders. They shined under the light, their pale blond color glowing with health. It was bleached, no doubt, but she did a good job managing it. Although, the bleach job had been executed poorly. He could still see some color from the dye job before on the ends of her hair. A familiar light pink.

Guzma's eyes widened. That's how he knew her.

The girl froze when she saw the realization on his face. She was consumed with fear, her hands shaking as she waited for him to announce her past identity to the whole store.

“Will you hurry up!” Nanu snapped.

Guzma took hold of Nanu's shoulder and gave him a gentle squeeze before he started to rub his hand on his tense back. “Go easy on her, old man. She's not responsible for what happened. She's just trying to make a living,” Guzma murmured with a subtle nod towards the girl.

“Sorry for smoking in the store. We’ll make sure not to do that next time,” Guzma said as he pulled the empty pack from his pocket and stole the pen from the counter, writing on the side of the carton.

Nanu leveled his breathing and once he was calm he apologized as well. The girl accepted and finished ringing them up and soon held out their bags to them. Guzma took all three before Nanu could and held out the carton to the girl. “Mind tossing this for me?” Guzma offered.

The moment the box rested in her hands Guzma pushed Nanu out the door. By the time she turned it and saw the “stay safe” note scrawled side, they were long gone.


	15. Zombie of Alola

_“Kukui! Plumeria! Stop leaving me behind you jerks!” Guzma called out. His young and skinny legs pumped furiously to catch up with his friends, the smile on his face growing wide as he heard them laugh. “It's not funny, guys!” Guzma whined, even though he was beginning to laugh himself._

_“Then hurry up, idiot!” Plumeria called back, the plastic clips in her braided black hair clicking together as she vanished around a corner. Kukui smirked at Guzma and waved teasingly before he disappeared along with her._

_Guzma grumbled as he willed his legs to go faster with the wind whipping through his black curly hair as it soothed his red and overheated cheeks. He burst around the corner, determined to catch up with his friends, but instead collided with another body. Guzma cried out as he fell onto his back and spat out curses, ones his father said often, when his arm scraped the hot sidewalk._

_“Mother effer! Ugh, that hurt,” Guzma whimpered as he sat up, rubbing his fingers over the freshly peeled skin. Who did he run into?_

_“Hey man, sorry. I didn't see you...coming,” Guzma’s words faltered as he swallowed, eyes wide as he stared at the man he knocked down._

_He couldn't tell if this guy was a ghost or a corpse, but either way, there was no confusing that he was dead, even as it sat up all on its own. His skin, his hair, all of this man's body was an inhuman white. His clothes were drab and grey, tattered and full of holes and hadn't seemed to be changed or washed in a long time. The corpse moved his hand to clutch his temple as his sleeve rolled down, exposing his thin arm to Guzma. Guzma gulped again. It was so thin, he didn't even look like he had skin. He could see each dip and curve of the creature’s bone. As if it were a walking skeleton._

_The corpse slowly lifted his head and fear welled up inside of Guzma as he stared at its face. He could tell that the man was in his forties, but his cheekbones looked as if they were going to slice right through his paper skin. The bruises under his eyes were dark and threatening, which brought out the vile color of his eyes. Guzma’s breath hitched as red irises locked with his. He shook with fear as he found himself glued to those devilish eyes. Even they looked haunted. They were full of the flames of hell, but they didn't burn. They were broken. They were **dead**._

_“Guzma!”_

_Kukui was suddenly by his side, his hands pulling him to his feet and holding him close. If Guzma weren't so scared, he’d be blushing like mad. Kukui watched the corpse warily as he pulled Guzma away, and didn't start checking for wounds until there was a good distance between them and the corpse._

_“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” Kukui asked as he checked Guzma over._

_“Y-yeah. I mean, no. He didn't hurt me. I’m fine,” Guzma replied, his eyes still on the man. Kukui’s fingers brushed over Guzma's skin and the boy shivered, a blush dusting his young cheeks. Guzma couldn't look away as he watched the man climb slowly to his feet. He moved like a corpse would, like zombies do in movies._

_“Are you sure?” Kukui held Guzma's face in his hands and forced the other boy to look at him as he searched Guzma’s eyes, “Are you sure he didn't hurt you?”_

_Guzma made a face as his blush extended to his ears. “I told you I’m fine. I’ve had worse. Besides, look at how that guy is moving. He's too slow to catch me,” Guzma said as he pointed at the man, but he was gone, “Hey, where did the guy go?”_

_“Guzma you idiot!” Plumeria panted as she rushed to her cousin's side, “You shouldn't get near that guy!”_

_“Huh? Why? What's wrong with him?” Guzma asked as he tried to pull away from Kukui. If he blushed any more than he was, Kukui was going to figure out his secret crush._

_“You don't know? That’s the Zombie of Alola,” Kukui said._

_“Zombie of Alola?” Guzma repeated with a lifted brow, “Isn't that a bit cliché? And aren't we too old for ghost stories?”_

_“He’s not a story, G. That guy is really a zombie. You saw his eyes, didn't you?” Plumeria asked._

_Dead red irises glowed in his memory and Guzma shivered. “Yeah. What about it?”_

_“He’s dead, Guzma. No one has seen him eat or even sleep. He just...walks. He never speaks and he never takes a break. Alola is haunted by their very own living dead man,” Kukui answered._

_“What happened to him? Why is he like that?” Guzma asked._

_“No one really knows. Some say he was a homeless man who starved to death, and now he's watching the streets to kill those who wronged him while he was alive,” Plumeria offered._

_“I heard that he got caught up in a car accident. His family survived but he didn't, and he was forgotten by them, so he walks in search of his family to take revenge,” Kukui said._

_Guzma glanced over his shoulder even though the man was long gone. He remembered those eyes. He remembered how broken they looked…but something else lurked there. Something familiar._

_“I dunno, guys. He doesn't seem evil or angry. He looks...sad and alone,” Guzma murmured._

Guzma gasped as his eyes shot open. Dim light flitted into the living room, alerting Guzma that it was very early in the morning. He laid his hand over his face and rubbed at his eyes. That dream...he hadn't thought about that incident in a long time. It was the first time he had ever met Nanu. He was so young when it happened. Now that he thought about it, Kukui’s story was the closest to the truth. That time he ran into Nanu must have been shortly after he lost his parents. All of those horrible rumors about him were floating around while he was in so much pain...it was amazing that Nanu didn't turn into someone like _him_.

Guzma pushed all thoughts aside as he climbed out of his cot and started getting ready for the day. After changing his clothes he headed to the kitchen and made himself a bowl of cereal and ate to the sound of singing pokémon outside. Once finished, he cleaned his dishes and put them away before bringing out a new set and filling the bowl to the brim with cereal. He poured in a healthy amount of milk and then moved to Nanu’s door to knock lightly before opening the door a crack.

“Old man, I got you breakfast,” Guzma said as he stepped inside.

Nanu groaned as he was awoken by Guzma's voice and grumpily sat up while scrubbing at his eyes. “Thanks. You didn't have to do that, though. Especially since it’s fucking four in the morning,” Nanu grumbled.

Guzma chuckled as he moved to stand beside Nanu’s bed and held out the bowl to him. “I figured it would be better for us to leave early in the morning so that we reach Malie City before lunch time,” he replied.

“Malie City?” Nanu took the bowl from Guzma's hands and stared at his new jeans and yellow tank top. He scowled. “We aren't going back to Malie City. Not after what they did. Those people are garbage and don't deserve to have you work for them,” Nanu growled.

Guzma smiled and he sat down on the edge of Nanu’s bed. “Wouldn't that be like giving up, though? I’d rather not give them the satisfaction.”

“...you’re serious? You actually want to help them after what they did to you?” Guzma shrugged.

“Once they see what I’m really like, the guilt over what they did will kill them more than I ever could,” he replied with a smirk.

Nanu snorted as a smirk spread along his lips. “I like how you think, Guzma.”

The boy smiled, but the expression fell flat when he became thoughtful as he watched Nanu eat. When Nanu was known as the Zombie of Alola he was treated as if he were a killer, a _criminal_ , just like him. If Nanu could survive it and bounce back, then so could he.

At least, that was his theory.

If he were the religious type he’d pray about it. The thought alone almost made him snort. No deity was going to listen to his bitching and whining. He was on his own, like he always was.


	16. Unpaid Labor

After Nanu had made it known that Guzma would work for _free_ at his own expense for the people of Malie City, a long list of names quickly filled Nanu's notepad until nearly everyone had signed up to use him. Their eagerness irked him, but Guzma kept his mouth shut and his face neutral. If this is what it was going to take to make them see him differently then he was going to do it. He owed Nanu that much.

The first requests were timid and small. Wash the dishes. Take out the trash. Wash the car. Then slowly they started to test the waters and push their luck with bigger and harder tasks. Plant a garden. Dig up weeds. Clean up after pets. Mow the yard. Each request after another was met with cackling and pointing onlookers. He kept himself under control, but he would be lying if he said that their words hadn't gotten under his skin.

His latest request he found to be the most absurd, or at least the most dangerous. A man of portly size had ordered him to paint his entire house, top to bottom, in the world's ugliest shade of green. He swore the name of the paint was stomach acid. It honestly had to be because that’s exactly what it looked like. It was disgusting.

“Yeah, I told you, you wouldn't believe it! He's goin’ around town with the old man, doing whatever people want him to do. It’s like he’s our own personal slave,” the man laughed into his phone as he rocked back and forth in his porch swing.

Guzma's eye twitched as his nose wrinkled. “Leave it to a wealthy white guy to say shit like that,” Guzma grumbled under his breath. He pushed the brush deep into the paint can and slathered paint onto the house wall in uneven globs, then sighed and brushed away the excess paint to even the coat.

“It is rather tasteless. And I’m only saying it that way because I’m on duty,” Nanu remarked, his hands holding the ladder in place for Guzma.

Guzma snorted, smirking to himself at Nanu’s words as he continued his project. He loved that Nanu was himself even while on duty, just with less punching citizens in the face. He spared a glance down at the elder man. He had grown curious over time but had never asked his question. Now might be a good of a time as any. He was bored. “Hey Nanu, what's your ethnicity?” Guzma asked as he soaked his brush again.

Nanu blinked at the question before smirking, “Can't you tell? I’m crayola white.”

“Hardy _har_ _har_ ,” Guzma scoffed, “I’m serious, man. I mean, you don't have to tell me. I’m just curious. I can't quite pin it and I’ve been wondering for awhile now.”

“You didn't read that on my ID?” Nanu teased, laughing when Guzma threatened him with paint, both of them knowing that _Albino_ was written on his ID. Even though he filled out the paperwork completely, they had still chosen to label him. “Well, my mom was Indian. My dad was Jewish and Japanese. There's probably more in there but I really can't ask them to find out. What about you?”

“Huh? Oh. My mother is black and hispanic. Only know about the second one because my uncle’s last name is Díaz. Don't really know any specific names. She never talked about it. Never really talked about anything except about me,” Guzma said with a shrug.

“She talked about you?” Nanu asked. Guzma never spoke about his mother. Nanu didn't really even know what their relationship was, although this information made him hope it was a good one.

“Not in the bragging sort of way. She's not that kind of person anyways. The only time she bragged about me was because my father wanted her to show me off. However, what she did do with that mouth of hers was snitch on me. Every time I fucked up she went straight to my father and ratted me out. She probably did it to escape beatings and protect herself, which I can understand. If I were her, I would've done the same thing,” Guzma admitted before slathering more paint on the wall, “Although, it's still pretty shitty to have my own mother throw me to the beast rather than protect me from it. Granted, she never wanted children, but if she didn't want to risk it she shouldn't have slept with my father, or at least used a condom, or taken a pill, or drank herself into a stupor and kill me in the process. Not that I would have never been lucky like that.”

Nanu’s heart ached. Both of his parents were shitty. “Guzma...” He had nothing to say. He didn't know what to say. Comforting Guzma was always tricky.

“My father talked more about himself though. He’s Japanese, Russian, and German. He speaks the languages with his buddies all the time, of course his english accent is awfully thick and I pronounce words far more fluently than he does. He butchers even curse words,” Guzma scoffed, ignoring Nanu’s sentiment.

Nanu blinked. “You’re trilingual?”

Guzma paused in his work and smirked down at Nanu, “It’s mostly curse words and insults, but yeah. I picked it up from watching my father’s friends talk. I actually know a little Spanish too thanks to my uncle. Well, his daughter, really.”

Nanu cocked his head. “Daughter? You have a cousi-.”

“Hey, Nanu! I have a question for you!”

Guzma stilled from the shout and refrained from snarling back at the man on the porch. He really hated this guy, but he had to keep himself under control.

“Be there in a minute! Come on down, Guzma. You got everything on this side. You deserve a break anyways. Make sure you drink water,” Nanu said as he patted Guzma's leg and stood to the side.

Guzma sighed, a tiny bit relieved that he got to relax as he carefully moved down the rickety ladder, his heart rate returning to normal when his feet touched the ground. Nanu lead Guzma to a stump and handed him a bottle of water before turning to the owner.

“What can I do for you, Bill?” Nanu asked with a kind smile dusting his face. Guzma tried not to snort his drink. He couldn't believe what a good actor the old man was sometimes, he knew Nanu hated this guy as much as he did.

“I talked to a buddy of mine just now. He owns Paniola Ranch on Akala Island and needs to rebuild his fence, only he doesn't have the money to hire someone to do it nor can he do it himself due to a back injury. I told him about the situation with you and your inmate and I offered to ask you if you would help him out. If he doesn't have a fence he loses all of his tauros, you’d help him out a lot. Besides, your inmate does owe all the people of Alola and apology, doesn't he?” the man asked.

Guzma wrinkled his nose at the man. They just wanted to use him to get revenge. Five bucks said there was nothing wrong with the friend’s back. Besides, that ranch owns a daycare and it costs over five hundred bucks to take a pokémon _out_. There's no way he doesn't have money.

Nanu turned to face Guzma. “Well? What do you think? Feel comfortable going to another island?”

The man scowled. He hadn't expected Nanu to ask Guzma's permission.

Alright. He’ll play their game. For now.

“It's fine with me,” Guzma said with a smirk, “As long as you ain’t driving, Nanu.”


	17. Taking the Bull by the Horns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By far my favorite chapter. I mean, I have a lot of fave chapters, but i really love this one.

Guzma quickly realized what a mistake this was. He had only visited Akala a few times and somehow he had forgotten how hot the forsaken island was. Luckily he had worn a tank top again, despite the fact that people stared at his inked skin and it bothered the hell out of him, but he was stuck in his muddy and somehow already torn jeans from yesterday. Nanu had encouraged him to wear shorts, but Guzma had refused without giving a reason as to why. Although after that incident, Guzma was sure Nanu knew his reasons.

Guzma swiped sweat from his forehead with a frustrated growl. He needed to get a new bandanna or something. His hair had grown long enough to fall in front of his face and blocked his vision and tended to lead sweat right into his eyes, which stung like hell. The only blessing the bangs presented was hiding the scar on his forehead from their judgemental eyes. He had already heard an unfair amount of words about his nose and the new scars marring his lips and arms. As if it were his fault that they were there. Well, if he didn't have a bad habit of picking at things he wouldn't have the scar on his lips or some of the scars on his arm, but it's not like they knew that.

The beat up and dirty gloves guarding his hands suddenly caused his grip to slip on the plank of wood and he cursed as he caught himself before dropping everything. The scar on his palm throbbed, causing him to growl. These gloves were literally _worse_ than wearing no gloves at all. They spread dirt and grime on his skin and made it hard to grip the planks of wood. They were worn down and full of holes, allowing splinters to stab at his skin and prick his calloused fingers. He wouldn't even dare touch the barbed wire with these gloves in fear of the damage it would cause.

“How do you get any work done, Nanu? This brat is worthless and slow,” the rancher scoffed.

Guzma clenched his teeth as he refused to react. He couldn't give them the satisfaction of watching him lose it. Even if they deserved it. Of course, it also rubbed him the wrong way that they were getting away with being total dickholes to him.

“Don't be a dickhole and stop harassing the boy, Jason,” Nanu barked. He glared at the man beside him, looking furious for a man sitting comfortably in a lawn chair with a tall glass of untouched lemonade. “Guzma is doing a favor for you and you should recognize that. He's working his ass off and doing a good job. He deserves respect,” Nanu said.

The man bristled and the mocking smile on his face twisted into a frown. “Why are you defending him? You ordered him to do this. This is his punishment,” Jason argued.

“No, I didn't. I _asked_ if Guzma wanted to do this and he agreed. He's helping you because he wanted to,” Nanu growled, “Also, stop acting like we're friends.”

Jason looked alarmed. “Nanu? What's gotten into you? I’ve always considered us friends.”

“Oh, shut up. You weren't my friend back then and you are _not_ my friend now. I may have looked like I wasn't all there, but I remember everything from my wandering days. So can it,” Nanu ordered. He picked up his chair and moved a good three feet away, sitting with his arms crossed and a dark scowl on his face while Jason looked personally victimized.

Guzma couldn't help but snicker to himself. What goes around comes around in the end. This Jason guy must have been a real asshole to Nanu back when Nanu was nothing more than a living ghost story. Then again, Guzma had noticed that recently Nanu had become rather protective of him. _Overprotective_ , in a sense. Anyone who looked too long or opened their mouth to him were instantly met with the wrath of a furious Nanu. It was weird. Definitely not something Guzma was used to, but he secretly loved it. It was nice to have someone protect and defend him. It was nice to be treated like a human being, for once.

“Jason!”

Guzma paused in his work to watch as a young man, roughly his own age, raced up the dirt path as if his body were on fire. People around here didn't run around like that. It was a calm town. Running meant something was up.

“Jason! Jason we have to get out of here! That wild bovine is on its way!” the man shouted before screeching to a halt in front of Jason with his hands on his knees while he struggled to catch his breath, “He’s actin’ crazier than usual. I watched him destroy a shed myself! He’s in a real bad mood.”

Jason sat up in fear. “That thing is still alive? I thought Forester shot it! Are you sure it’s the same one?”

“It has to be the same bull. I’ve never seen a pokémon as heavily scarred as that one. There's no mistaking it. We have to get out of here _now_ ,” the man urged.

They were scared of a pokémon? A bovine pokémon? Tauros was the only bovine pokémon in the area, and unlike other countries, Alola was known for having _peaceful_ and _calm_ tauros. Guzma frowned as he set his tools aside and pulled off his gloves. “What pokémon are ya’ll takin’ about? Since when does a ranch that specializes in _bovine_ _pokémon_ not know how to handle a _bovine_ _pokémon_?” Guzma demanded.

Jason glared at Guzma as he stood up. “Shut your damn mouth you Team Skull _scum_. That bull isn't like other pokémon. It's wild, reckless, and undefeated. No one has even come close to catching it. That beast destroys our town and our community, and apparently even _killing_ it doesn't seem to stop it,” the man growled as he kicked his chair away, “Annabeth! Get my shotgun!”

Guzma's eyes widened and his anger sparked. “Are you fucking stupid? You can't kill a pokémon!” he snarled.

“I told you to shut your damn mouth, didn't I? That bull isn't some lost _pet_. It’s a killer. It will harm our _children_ without a second thought. Do you think that's something that deserves to be protected?” Jason spat.

Nanu stood up and began placing himself between the two. “Look, now is not the time to fight, we need too-.”

“You hurt your own damn children!” Guzma shrieked, “All of you damn adults are the exact same! Why don't you fucking try to _understand_ why the pokémon acts the way it does instead of striking down a creature as if you are some divine protector sent by a god! Your fucking fists always come before your questions and it's no _wonder_ you backwards assholes lose your children and have your town destroyed by one pokémon! What is fucking **_wrong_ ** with adults!”

Pain and pity shined in Nanu’s red eyes, but Jason glowered with his teeth clenched tight. “That’s a _lotta_ words coming from a piece of shit **_garbage_ ** like you,” Jason snarled. His daughter appeared at his side, loaded shotgun in hand, and passed the weapon to her father. Jason cocked the shotgun and raised it until the barrel pointed at Guzma's skull. “You terrorized men, women, _and_ children. You stole our pokémon. You stole the money we use to feed our families. I wouldn't doubt that you’ve taken lives either,” Guzma’s jaw clenched and Jason snorted, “Figured. I could do Alola justice and kill you right here, right now, and rid the world of one more criminal.”

Guzma's nose wrinkled as his rage boiled. He yanked on his own hair and exposed the massive and pale pink scar on his forehead. “Do us all a favor then! Kill me! Do it! But if you do you'll only confirm what I said! You fucking adults choose violence over everything else, every damn time. How do you think I was created? By a loving family? By people who listened and cared? A gentle life? Monster's like _me_ aren't made from love and understanding. You would be wise to take me as a warning and protect and take care of your children the way you _should_ ,” Guzma said as his hand fell away, his gray eyes shining like the steel of a blade through his curly bangs.

Nanu’s hands twitched at his sides, his eyes glued to Jason's hand on the gun. He didn't want to knock into Jason and accidentally cause him to pull the trigger, but if he even so much as saw Jason’s grip adjust on the gun he was going to use that same shotgun against him if any harm came to Guzma.

Jason watched Guzma a few moments longer before snorting and lowering his gun. “Your life would be a waste of ammunition. I’m going to kill that bull and you are going to be a good little prisoner and stay out of my fucking way,” Jason hissed.

Guzma surged forward. “You aren't listening to me! You can’t just-!”

“I said _**BE QUIET**_!”

A cold shotgun barrel cracked along the side of Guzma's face, the force throwing Guzma to the ground as he clutched the bleeding wound with a pained cry.

“Guzma!” Nanu shouted, his eyes burning as he bellowed at Jason, “What the **_hell_ ** do you think you’re doing!” Before Nanu could make a move Jason’s friend and his daughter pinned Nanu’s arms behind his back and dragged him away toward the fence behind them as he squirmed in their arms. “Let go of me! I’m an officer of the law!”

“A _self-proclaimed_ officer of the law. Now shut your mouth. I have a bull to kill,” Jason growled.

Nanu's shouts buzzed in Guzma's ear as his whole head throbbed with sharp pain. It took a minute for his vision to clear. Last time he had been hit that hard he had been blind for a week. He got lucky this time. Slowly, Guzma pulled his hand away from his temple and stared at his blood soaked palm. That hurt. He hadn't been hit by something heavy and metallic like that in a while, but Jason's swing was a bit weak compared to what he was used to. Although, to be honest, a driver was meant to be swung, a shotgun wasn't. Guzma groaned under his breath as he forced himself to sit up and then stand on woozy legs.

“G-Guzma?” Nanu gasped. His voice sounded so broken and fearful. Guzma shot him a glance. Were those tears in his eyes? Was he really that worried about him?

Guzma smiled softly at Nanu before aiming a wicked grin at Jason. “You should practice your swing. My father hit me harder than that,” Guzma sneered.

Jason’s eyes narrowed, but before he could say anything screams filled the air along with the sound of wood cracking and glass shattering.

“He’s coming. Everyone get behind the fence!” Jason barked. Nanu was forced over the fence with the friend and daughter and Jason soon followed behind. Guzma started to climb over but was suddenly stopped by the barrel of a shotgun pressed against his chest.

“Jason stop! Just let him climb the fence! That bull is coming! Let him over the fence!” Nanu snarled as he continued to struggle in captivity.

Guzma and Jason glared hard at each other, their heads held high as neither backed down. “Sorry, old geezer. I can't risk it. He could take my gun and kill us all,” Jason said.

Nanu spat curses and threats as he continued to struggle but Guzma knew it was all in vain. The barrel cut into his chest with enough pressure to force Guzma to slip off the fence and step back. Guzma could only glare darkly at the man as people began to flood the dirt road. They bumped into his shoulder. They pushed him out of the way. They even walked on him when he fell to the ground. Each and every last one of them were allowed over the fence, except him.

“Everyone stay back! When that bull comes around the corner I’m going to kill it. I only have two shots, but if you all give me some space I can kill it. Now _move_!” Jason ordered.

Guzma once again crawled to his feet as he dusted himself off and winced at the fresh bruises. The people cowered away in fear, for two reasons. The first, the bull appeared. The second, Guzma was there too. He turned his head, one eye closed as blood dripped down his face while his one opened eye took in the powerful sight. He understood why everyone was so scared. The tauros was _covered_ in large pink scars. It was a massive creature with bulging muscles and eyes full of bloodlust, and it was ready to charge.

Jason took aim.

Guzma lurched forward. His big hands took hold of Jason's shotgun and pushed the barrel up just as Jason squeezed the trigger. Nanu screamed his name, the shout almost completely overshadowed by the shotguns roar. Poor Nanu. His heart must be falling apart. He’d have to make sure to apologize later. The bullet zipped past Guzma's cheek and lodged itself into a tree as he gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on the barrel even as the burning metal singed his skin.

“What the hell are you doing!” Jason snapped.

A smirk split Guzma's face in two. He held on tightly to the barrel and pushed the angle up higher. One hand slid down the barrel as he wedged his thumb in front of the trigger, trapping Jason's finger. “I’m being a better listener than you ever were, ugly bastard,” Guzma snickered. He jammed his thumb down and pulled the trigger. Guzma's teeth ached as he held back a second scream when the shotgun burned his hand again. After the bullet dug deep into another tree Guzma moved one hand from the shotgun and tightened his fist as he decked Jason and watched in satisfaction as the man dropped to the ground with a bloody nose.

“Now you need to stay out of my way,” Guzma hissed, then threw the shotgun at Jason’s rolled up body.

The citizens started to whisper among one another as Guzma turned to face the tauros head on. The bovine pokémon snorted as his hoof cut deep into the soft ground then began to walk to the right. Guzma moved to the same rhythm. They circled one another until they had a good three yards distance between them.

“Alright, buddy. I don't want to fight you. I just want to talk,” Guzma murmured, “Tell me what's wrong.”

The tauros snorted again and his hoof carved through the dirt. Despite the impressive collection of scars on its body, the pokémon didn't look very old. In fact, it looked rather young. Life had just treated it miserably. Guzma studied the bull’s eyes. It was wild, for sure, but there was something else in its eyes. Something familiar.

The tauros released a threatening call when it suddenly charged. Guzma gasped and only had enough time to bring up his arms to block the attack. Heavy horns smacked right into the palms of his aching and burned hands and he snarled from the pain, but held on tight, pushing back with all of his strength. Of course he wasn't strong enough to stop the pokémon, but as he dug the balls of his feet into the ground, even as he lost traction and the bull pushed him back, he was able to slow the tauros down and stand his ground. Noticing that Guzma wasn't going to fall, the tauros snorted and shook his head, throwing Guzma to the ground after he lost his grip. Guzma scrambled to his feet and took a few steps back, not wanting the tauros to charge again while he was imbalanced. “Take it easy, buddy. I want to help you. I promise,” Guzma said. His body was in so much pain. If his life weren't on the line he would have collapsed long ago. Besides, something about this pokémon bothered him. There was something about his eyes. They were wild. They were angry. They were...they were hurt and...lonely. Guzma's eyes widened. Tauros weren't inherently loner animals. Even the wildest and most violent of tauros would still have a companion to travel with.

This pokémon lost its partner.

The tauros dug at the ground once again and Guzma fearfully searched through his pocket until he found his ultraball. He pull out the ball and the town gasped. They hadn't known that he still had a pokémon. “I need your help, little dude,” Guzma murmured and released his pokémon.

The people watched with baited breath, and then they laughed. Jokes about his cutiefly spilled from their lips as if their lives weren't in danger. As if he wasn't about to save them. Each jab at his dignity and ego were ignored as he studied his opponent. Tauros’ eyes glanced between Guzma and his cutiefly and with another snort the tauros burst forward.

“Stun Spore!” Guzma shouted.

Yellow static poured from his pokémon and struck the tauros in a blinding burst. The effects were immediate. The tauros nearly came to a halt after he was struck. His powerful limbs continued to push him forward bit by bit in a sluggish crawl. His dark eyes burning with hate, a sight so familiar, but then he suddenly cried out and collapsed on his side in a large cloud of dust.

Everyone was quiet. All laughter had ended. Guzma glanced down at his shirt. It had been torn open by a horn, a long and thin bleeding line crossing over his torso. He could have died. Guzma fell to his knees beside the tauros, his whole body exhausted. His cutiefly chirped and nestled into his hair as a method of comfort. Guzma smiled. “Thanks buddy. I might have to use your ultraball for this one,” Guzma murmured. His burned hand stretched out and plucked part of his shirt from the bovine’s horn before looking down at the creature's mane. Pink fur nestled in his tangled locks. Miltank fur. Guzma’s eyes moved back to the tauros’ and he smiled softly. He reached out and softly brushed his wounded hand over the tauros’ mane and spoke in a soothing voice. “We’ll get her back, buddy. Don't worry. I’ll help you find her. I know how it feels,” Guzma murmured.

Tauros’ eyes flickered to a tired and peaceful gaze before he closed his eyes and disappeared into the ultraball. Guzma stared at the ultraball, watching as it shrank, then at his burned and trembling hands. He was so tired. He was going to need Nanu to carry him home. Guzma struggled to keep his eyes open as his vision blurred again. He swayed from side to side on his knees and just as he started to fall forward a warm body caught him.

Arms squeezed Guzma tightly as choked sobs drifted into his ear, the chest pressed against his with a heartbeat so rapid Guzma worried it might suddenly stop from exhaustion.

“Why’d you h-have to scare me like that?” Nanu croaked. Tears dripped down his cheeks and splashed onto Guzma's dirt coated skin.

Guzma smiled softly as he dropped the ultraball between them and reciprocated the hug, his arms wrapping as tightly around Nanu as he could manage even though he was in an unbelievable amount of pain. “Sorry, Nanu, but you really don't have to cry because of me,” Guzma murmured.

“Sh-shut up. You’re delusional,” Nanu sniffed as he buried his face deep in Guzma's shoulder, “Of course I’m gonna cry when I see you get hurt. I can't lose you just like that.”

Guzma smiled and pulled Nanu closer. His heart swelled so much he thought it might burst, “Same for you, pops. Same for you.”


	18. Quiet Talks

“Ow! Ouch, ouch, ouch!”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Nanu pulled his hands away immediately and Guzma breathed a relieved sigh.

“Sorry, Nanu. It just really hurts when you change the bandages,” Guzma chuckled with a smile.

“Well, I wasn't the one who decided to adjust the aim of a shotgun with my bare hands and get severe burns so I don't wanna hear it. You made your bed so you get to lay in it,” Nanu snorted while sharply motioning for Guzma to give his hand back.

Guzma laughed and nodded his head. “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I wasn't thinking,” Guzma said as he held out his hands to Nanu again.

“No, you weren't. You could have gotten yourself-,” Nanu paused, not wishing to go any further as he took Guzma's hands into his own and finished refreshing the bandages.

Guzma frowned. It had been a week since the tauros incident and Nanu was still affected by it. After their hug Guzma has passed out and actually slept for three days, so he doesn't know exactly what happened to the people of that town before they left. Although the news had supplied him with enough information. After he passed out, Nanu lost his temper. Big time. Bad enough that Jason claimed that Nanu committed police brutality. Nanu swore he didn't do anything more than what he deserved, but that obviously wasn't an excuse that was going to be accepted. Since Nanu was technically a self-proclaimed policeman, he couldn't actually be put on probation because he had no superiors. However, probation wasn't needed. Some people started not to trust Nanu. They claimed that he was on “Team Skull’s side”. As if Team Skull still actually existed. Others were just scared of what he could do if he was angry enough. If Guzma were honest, he’d be terrified too. Nanu isn't someone to mess with.

“Guzma...you wouldn't have actually let Jason kill you...would you?” Nanu murmured.

Guzma was taken by surprise. Was that what Nanu was worried about? “Um, well...no. I wouldn't want to give someone like him the satisfaction of killing me,” Guzma snickered, “I mean...it would suck if I couldn't see you anymore. Or find my pokémon. Or get my revenge on Jason.”

“Guzma.” Nanu's eyes pierced through his heart. There was so much fear and sadness in those red eyes. He hated seeing Nanu's eyes like that. The fire in them had almost been diminished, and he had a sneaking suspicion they were like that because of him. “Guzma...please. I want the truth,” Nanu begged, his voice almost a whisper.

Guzma gulped as he stared at the other man. The truth, huh? “I...I don't think I would have. I’m not gutsy enough to go through with it and...I couldn't hurt you like that,” Guzma smiled gently at Nanu, “I wouldn't have let Jason kill me. I’m happy here with you and the little dude. As happy as anyone could be under the circumstances.”

He almost argued, he really did, because that wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. Or, at least, the one he _should_ hear, but at the same time Guzma's answer was enough to ease the ache in his chest. So he accepted it. A light smile dusted Nanu’s lips, his eyes full of relief, “I’m glad to hear that.”

Nanu suddenly hid his face behind his hands as he released a shaking laugh. Guzma watched in shock as Nanu’s hands continued to swipe at his eyes as the laughter turned hollow and exhausted. Nanu pulled his hands away from his face and Guzma was suddenly struck by how tired the elder man looked.

“I’m _really_ glad to hear that,” Nanu dropped his hands back to his lap and shot Guzma a week grin, eyes pink and puffy, as his voice grew thick, “I was so worried. I thought you were going to let Jason shoot you, and then you passed out and you were unconscious for so long. I thought...I thought I was going to be alone again. It's pathetic, but I had no idea what I was gonna do.”

Nanu had been crying again. While Guzma did enjoy seeing actual expressions on Nanu’s face, he didn't like seeing this particular one. He didn't want Nanu to be sad and he _especially_ didn't want him to cry. Although, he supposed it was for the best. Who knows when Nanu last let himself freely cry. Much less in front of someone else.

“It's not pathetic, Nanu,” Guzma assured with a smile, “Being lonely is a bitch.”

Laughter bubbled from Nanu's throat as he scrubbed his eyes again and nodded in agreement. Guzma continued to smile when a thought struck him. “Oh, did you find out anything about that tauros I caught?” he asked. He glanced around in search of the ultraball that contained the wild bovine creature. It wasn’t until his cutiefly squeaked and brought his attention to his cot from across the room that he spotted the ball on his pillow. “Ah, thanks, little dude! Mind bringing him over here?”

Cutiefly chirped and eagerly did as told, carrying the ultraball between his little feet and dropping it in Guzma's lap. Guzma gave his cutiefly thanks and stroked his fur before he held the ultraball between his fingers. “Did they tell you anything?” Guzma asked.

Nanu finished regaining his composure before he nodded and answered. “Yeah. I was able to get his whole story. That tauros has been terrorizing that town for a couple of years now. It normally only scares people and injures a trainer or two if challenged and causes mild property damage while fighting other tauros, but when we encountered him the tauros was ruthless. I found out that the reason for him behaving that way is because he was alone. That tauros was known for traveling with a miltank, and for some reason she’s gone. His bad attitude was due to him trying to find his friend. At least that’s what I’ve come to believe,” Nanu said with a shrug.

“That’s what I suspected. I saw miltank fur on his mane before I captured him. What do you think happened to the miltank?” Guzma asked.

“No clue. Judging by the way those two travelled together I’m assuming she didn't allow herself to be caught by a trainer. She could have been kidnapped,” Nanu offered.

Guzma frowned. Team Skull was the only gang in the game of poaching pokémon and cashing them in, and as far as he knew they were all disbanded. Could there be a few acting on their own? Guzma felt a conflicted squeeze in his chest. Part of him was excited about the thought of his gang still alive and kicking, but the other part prayed that Team Skull was dead. If a few members were still together the people would revolt against him and would only create more problems for Nanu. Plus, Nanu would believe that he was involved and would be severely disappointed. Seeing disappointment on someone's face was worse than death itself.

“Do you think it could be the Aether Foundation?” Guzma asked.

“Possibly, but I doubt it. Lusamine is no longer in control. Her son Gladion is,” Nanu said.

“Gladion? Then no, I don't believe it's him. He’s not that kind of person,” Guzma said with a shake of his head, “Even when he worked with my crew he was a pretty stand up kid. Never got his hands dirty with stealing pokémon or money, just protected the weaker Skull members. He did what he wanted and never let me order him around like the others. Kinda reminds me of, well, me.”

Nanu smiled softly as Guzma snickered, but his smile eventually faded away. “If Gladion isn't responsible for the disappearance and Team Skull has been disbanded...I think we're looking at a frame job. Someone is out to ruin your image,” Nanu sighed.

Guzma snickered as his cutiefly nestled in his hair. “They really don't need to do that. I’ve been fucking up my image for years,” he laughed.

“Jokes aside, this could really cause trouble for you, Guzma. If someone out there is trying to frame you...it's going to be hard to get people to trust you,” Nanu warned.

Guzma sighed. “I know. I get it. I just don't really believe that people will think of me in anything other than a negative light. I never expected for people to like or accept me.”

“I know they would if we can just get through to them. Not everyone in Alola is like Jason,” Nanu said with determination.

Guzma raised a brow. “Do you really believe that?”

Nanu sighed and shook his head. “I have to. Otherwise we have no hope of getting you a better life.”


	19. Will-less

_Guzma's young eyes sparkled from the scattered light that seeped through the bushes he hid inside. Part of him knew he shouldn't be doing this. The Zombie of Alola wasn't someone or_ something _that should be followed as if he were merely catching a low level pokémon. However, the rest of him ignored his inner conflict as he continued to watch. After a year of studying the breathing dead man he had gathered enough courage to decide to speak to him. He had been following the walking corpse for almost an hour now and Guzma was surprised by the amount of ground he covered at his slow pace. Step by step, swaying side to side, dragging his body down street after street without a single pause. He didn't seem to be heading anywhere in particular, nor did he seem to be searching for something. He only walked. After following him for so long Guzma found it hilarious that people could be afraid of someone so broken and defenseless. Of course, Guzma was probably the only one who saw him for what he really was._

_Guzma's breath caught in surprise as the corpse suddenly stilled. The Zombie of Alola stood under a massive weeping willow with his dull red eyes staring at the shifting lake before him. Suddenly, the dead man's face twisted in pain as his knees buckled and he crumbled. Guzma gasped, fearing that the man had hurt himself, but the corpse merely rested his back against the tree with a hand grasping at his weeping stomach. Guzma waited and watched as the zombie stared at the lake before he made his move._

_He pulled himself free from the bushes and carefully jogged over to the living horror story, but stopped short when he was only a few feet away. “U-um...h-hi,” Guzma stuttered, his small hands clutching the straps of his backpack._

_Red eyes drifted away from the lake and stared at Guzma. The boy gulped and stood tall as he tried not to buckle under his intimidating gaze. “M-my name is Guzma.”_

_His words were met with silence, which he expected. He honestly wasn't even sure that the man could speak. Guzma's eyes searched the corpse’s body and his heart squeezed in his chest. No wonder people thought he was a zombie. His pale skin was peeling, and not because he was decaying, but because he was_ burned _. All this time the legend spent walking under the sun he did so without any protection. It was amazing that he was even still alive. Good thing he came prepared._

_Guzma pulled his backpack off his shoulders and set it on the ground, kneeling to dig around inside. “I have something for your burns. I can apply it this time but you'll have to put on another dose later. And I also brought you some sunscreen that you can keep,” Guzma said as he began pulling out two bottles, one of green aloe gel and the other heavy duty sunscreen, “I also brought you pain killers."_

_Guzma popped open the aloe bottle and squirted a heavy dose into his hand, then paused. “Is it okay if I put this stuff on you? It'll help a lot with your burns, I promise.”_

_The man blinked, then gave him a subtle nod. Guzma smiled in reassurance before quickly, and carefully, smearing thick globs of the gel onto the man's skin. He only needed the gel on his face and neck as well as his arms, so it didn't take too long to get covered. Although he did use a little too much aloe which made the zombie look a bit vandalized. Guzma snickered at the mildly alarmed look on his face, but was suddenly cut short by the sound of the man's stomach growling._

_“Oh! I thought you might be hungry. So I brought…,” Guzma stuck out his tongue from the side of his mouth as he searched through his bag again and pulled out a paper lunch bag, “I brought you food! It's only chips and a sandwich, but I made sure to put as many chips as I could into a little baggy so you can keep some and eat them later. Oh! And I got you water. The bottle is mine...but you don't have to worry about giving it back to me. I can always get a new one.”_

_He held out the bag and the wimpod patterned water bottle to the zombie, grinning ear to ear. Red eyes studied him. Guzma feared that he wasn't going to accept the food, but his fears were quickly put to rest when the man held out his hand, waiting for Guzma to hand it over. Guzma set the bag into his hand, freezing when a raspy voice spoke._

_“Na...nu…”_

_Guzma blinked, then smiled brightly. “Nanu? Is that your name? It means mouthless, right? Did your parents name you that because you’re so quiet? My full first name is Guzmania. Y’know, like the flower? I don't know why my mom thought that was a good idea. I guess it's okay, though. Guzmania flowers are kinda pretty….”_

As the memory gradually faded away Guzma turned the beat up bottle slowly between his fingertips as he examined it. The purple water bottle held many scratches and scuffs and most of the inked pattern had been scrubbed away over the years, but there was enough white ink to make a single wimpod recognizable. He tilted the bottle to peer at the bottom and smiled to himself. He brushed his thumb over his own name written in faded permanent marker. He always had the worst penmanship.

Now that he thought about it, that was the last time Guzma saw Nanu before...

Guzma cast his eyes to Nanu who had recently fallen asleep in front of the television during a Pokémon Recovery marathon. The bags under Nanu's eyes were evident, exposing the obvious strain his body was enduring due to fear and worry over Guzma. If he looked close enough, he could even see that Nanu’s skin had started to turn a light pink. It was dangerous for him to be out in the sun as much as they had been. He could risk seriously damaging his skin just like last time.

Guzma clutched the bottle between his hands as he slowly tore his eyes away. Nanu had been treated so horribly back then. No one had ever tried to help him. He was the first who even dared to speak to him. The people in Alola alienated him and he almost died from it.

The television crackled and Guzma set the bottle aside as a familiar news station fizzled onto the screen. He peered around the tv as a female reporter appeared with a grim expression on her face.

“There has been no update on the news of the illusive Island Kahuna of Ula’Ula known as Nanu. After his violent outburst on a farmer in Akala nothing has been said about the self-proclaimed officer of the law’s punishment. More news to follow at-.”

Guzma growled to himself as he shut off the television with a huff. Windbags should never be on television. They always reported the wrong side of the news and twisted everything out of proportion. Guzma set the remote on the coffee table and glanced at Nanu. His resolve strengthened as he took hold of the quilt hanging on the arm of the couch and carefully laid it over Nanu.

“I’m not gonna let them hurt you like that again, Nanu. I promise,” Guzma murmured as he tucked Nanu in, then paused to watch the small smile slinking across Nanu’s sleeping face, “I owe you a lot. My life, actually. It's time I pay you back.”


	20. Announcement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: depictions of graphic self-harm/suicide

They spent a week stuck inside that tiny little police station while Guzma healed. For the time being, until they came up with a different arrangement, they decided to keep the tauros inside the ultraball. Guzma wasn't a fan of the idea, but there wasn't anything else they could do. Not until he made a strong connection with the bovine.

Despite himself, Guzma had grown bored being cooped up in the house. Sure, he was safe and he could watch all the television he could want and his discussions with Nanu he wouldn't trade for the world, but he just had this itch he couldn't get rid of. He wanted to be outside. He wanted to fight with wild pokémon and strengthen his cutiefly. He wanted to be a trainer again. Losing his pokémon that night had been such a massive blow to his wellbeing, and it still hurt...far more than he was willing to show, but his passion for battling pokémon hadn't seemed to disappear like he expected. Although that was most likely due to his spunky cutiefly and Nanu’s efforts to encourage him. Also, he was sick and tired of being holed up in a tiny building like a mouse hiding in the walls from a room full of violent cats. Last time he checked, the people of Alola had been the mice and he was the bloodthirsty cat on the prowl. He despised how that dynamic changed and refuses to acknowledge it.

Luck wasn't very friendly with him, but it seemed fate decided to give him a chance.

They had run out of food once again, which meant the inevitable trip to Malie City. Nanu despised the thought of returning to that horrid town, but Guzma was nothing but excited for it. Nanu considered calling up a friend to shop for him, but after Guzma insisted that they do it themselves, Nanu finally relented and they were on their way.

Occasionally they stopped so Guzma could battle wild pokémon, and while Nanu had been scowling through most of the day, he couldn't help but smile whenever Guzma cheered after each victory, snorting when Guzma high fived his tiny bug friend. However, the moment they entered Malie City all traces of his amused and proud smile vanished. Instead, it was replaced with a frightening glare. Guzma shivered at the sight. He didn't know how people didn't just drop dead after being struck with that look.

Even though Guzma had gotten his wish to go outside, he understood why Nanu was so tense. As always, everyone stopped to stare at them. Guzma couldn't even imagine all the insults they planned to throw at him today. Some were likely to be the same as before, but Guzma found that people became creative when their hate for a singular person grows. Guzma dropped his eyes to his hands and sighed at the sight of the bandages. They were sure to have heard what he had done over in Akala. The giant bruises on his face and bandages on his body didn't leave much to the imagination either. There’s no telling what story had been twisted from the truth.

“Look at him.”

“I know. He looks worse than last time.”

“He’s always freaked me out. Have you seen his eyes? They're demonic.”

Guzma's ears perked at the odd insult. His eyes were demonic? No one had ever said that to him before. Grey eyes weren't normally considered threatening, much less demonic. Although, the insult did sound rather familiar…

Guzma's breath caught in his lungs. While it was true that all of their eyes were staring in this direction, they weren't looking at _him_ like he previously thought. Guzma turned his head to follow their gaze and his heart clenched in his chest. They weren't targeting him. They were coming after _**Nanu**_.

“I knew he was still violent. His temper is worse than a tauros.”

“Did you know he's not allowed to carry a gun?”

“Not that it helped any. Have you seen the two guys he’s hurt this month? They look like they were hit by a train.”

“I knew he shouldn't have ever become a cop. All he does is take our money. He doesn't even do his job.”

“He _does_ live right next to Po Town. He could’ve tried to stop Team Skull but he never lifted a finger towards them.”

“I had a feeling he was on their side. And now he's decided to protect that Team Skull _garbage_ over us citizens.”

“He’s always been fucking creepy. On Melemele he walked everywhere and never spoke to anyone. His skin was peeling from his body and it was so disgusting.”

“Really? When he showed up here he was like a ghost. We thought the police station was haunted before we found out he moved in.”

“I stopped donating money to him. He's not protecting us. He's protecting Team Skull.”

“Where does he get off acting like he's law and order around here, anyways?”

Guzma felt his heart stutter in panic. The people of Ula’Ula were abandoning Nanu all over again. They were pushing him away and he was going to be nothing more than a ghost story, an outcast, treated like a _criminal_. All because of _him_. Guilt washed through Guzma. This was all his fault. Nanu's name was being dragged through the mud, all for what? So Guzma could be safe? So he could have a better life? It was hardly a possibility for him to have that in the first place! Nanu didn't have much...but at least he had a place in this world as a kahuna and a cop. A selfless existence. It was more than Guzma had. Or ever will have. He can’t let that be taken away from Nanu.

“ ** _You!_** ”

Guzma bristled at the familiar booming voice and whirled around to see Jason breaking free from the crowd, his friend Bill following closely behind. The citizens hadn't been lying. Jason did look like he had been mowed down by a train. His face was swollen and bruised with a scabbed cut on his lip and nose, Guzma wouldn't have recognized him if it weren't for his awful voice and terrible country clothing. Nanu had done some serious damage to Jason.

Why? Why did Nanu want to protect him so much?

“I’m going to tear you apart!” Jason snarled as he stormed up to them.

Guzma scrambled to place his body in front of Nanu's, his arms spread wide to prevent Jason from getting around him as he held his head high and puffed out his chest bravely. “Don't touch him, Jason,” Guzma ordered.

Jason snarled as he raised a meaty fist in threat. “Get the fuck outta my way, you disgusting filth. You can be sure that I’m gonna beat your ass too, but not until I teach that so called cop a lesson he won't forget,” he snapped.

“Move, Guzma,” Nanu ordered as a wicked grin split his face in two, “I want to see him try to lay even a _finger_ on me.”

Jason growled as Guzma became desperate. Nanu was going to lose everything. He was going to become an outcast all over again. Starving, burned, and wandering all alone until he died. Guzma couldn't let that happen. He just...he _couldn't_ , and definitely not for him.

Guzma clenched his jaw in determination. He knew what to do. It was going to hurt, but he had to do it. It was his turn to protect Nanu. Guzma tightened his fist, and without skipping a beat he planted a hard punch to Jason's jaw, sending him flying back into his friend's arms. The citizen’s gasped as Jason cursed and clutched his face, blood dripping between his fingers. Guzma choked on his own scream as his injured hand burned while a thousand needles stabbed into the sore flesh. Despite the pain he scowled down at Jason with his head held high as if he hadn't been affected.

“Guzma! What are you doing!” Nanu hissed as he reached out to take hold of the boy's shoulders.

Guzma shook his hands off and took a step forward, distancing himself from Nanu, and glared hard at the people around him. “Listen up! I want all ya’ll fuckers to hear what I have to say!” Guzma shouted. He paused, making sure that they were all listening, and continued, “Officer fuck-face behind me didn't do shit to you people! I was the one who beat up this pile of shit! Nanu didn't have anything to do with it. He tried to take the fall for me because, like every good cop out there, they believe they can change people. He took the blame for me to protect my so called _image_. Well I don't give a _fuck_ if I have your approval and acceptance! I beat up Jason and I’m owning up to it!”

The people began to murmur amongst themselves. Nanu stood frozen in place as he stared at Guzma in horror. “Guzma...Guzma you can't do-.”

“I know what I did was wrong,” Guzma announced and then started to smirk, “And I don't give a shit. I stole your pokémon. I stole your money. I took everything from you idiots and filled your hearts with fear! I’m big bad Guzma, ya hear? I’m the boss of Team Skull and do you think I really care that I hurt you? I don't regret **_anything_ ** that I have done to you people! I don't want nor do I need for you dumbasses to like me, and I don't plan on changing for you dipshits. No matter how much Nanu tries to change me, I won't. I'm never going to apologize or grovel for what I did, and ya’ll ain’t never gonna forgive me. Our dynamic isn't gonna change.”

“Guzma, _stop_! You can't do this to yourself!” Nanu hissed as he reached out for his shoulder, but Guzma again moved away from his touch.

“But he punched that guy at the clothes store!” someone called out.

“So fucking what? He was doing his job! Nanu is bound by law to keep harm from befalling me, but that doesn't mean he's choosing me over you. He puts his life on the line to protect each and every one of you,” Guzma's voice lowered, but they all heard his words, “It's sickening, how much he cares for you...what he would do for you. Don't take it for granted. He's a great cop. Probably the only good one. He's doing what he believes is best for all of us. And ya’ll are trying to stab him in the back! Sometimes I wonder if I’m really the villain, or if _you people_ are.”

Everyone stood in absolute silence as they mulled over his words. Guzma stared hard at Jason, silently daring the man to counter his speech. Guzma knew Jason had two options at this point. Either he calls Guzma out on his lie and turns the entire town against Nanu, or he goes for the bigger prize and allows Guzma to hang himself.

“Guzma is...the one who hit me. You just saw him do it again. Guzma is a disgusting and pathetic monster who will never change. No matter how many little favors he does for us,” Jason stated, raising his voice to be heard without question.

Murmurs of agreement buzzed around them, which soon turned to angry accusations and snarls. Even as they yelled horrible threats, Guzma could only feel relief filling his chest. Nanu was safe. At least he could do that much for him. He was able to do the right thing for once. Guzma shot Jason a subtle nod, who in turn sneered as he spat blood in his direction.

A calloused hand suddenly wrapped tightly around Guzma's wrist. Before Guzma could ask Nanu what was wrong he was brutally yanked away from the crowd. He was pulled down the street and forced around a corner, then pushed into an alleyway, leaving the two completely alone. Before Guzma could speak a gasp burst from his lips as he was shoved against the wall, the air pushed from his lungs while Nanu held on tightly to his shirt and pinned the younger man in place.

“What the _fuck_ did you just do! You ruined everything! Those people aren't going to trust you now! Why would you do something so fucking _idiotic_!” Nanu snarled.

Guzma blinked before smiling softly at the elder man. “Sorry, Nanu. I couldn't let them do that to you. I didn't want you to be treated the same way as me, they way you had been when you were the Zombie of Alola. You finally made it out of that life and I didn't want all of that work to go to waste,” he replied. He knew Nanu was mad now, but he would understand. He had done the right thing. Right?

Nanu's eyes widened, then burned with rage. “That's it? That's why you ruined your future? What they say about me doesn't fucking matter! I’ve lived too long to give a shit about their gossip about me. I'm too _old_ for it to even affect my life. You, on the other hand, have your whole life ahead of you. At least you did before you fucked everything up! How could you do something so _stupid_!” Nanu barked.

Guzma’s heart shattered, then he bristled and glared at Nanu before pushing him away. “Hey! I was doing the right thing! I was trying to be good! They would've destroyed everything you had! I couldn't let you go down just because you were protecting me! I’m not worth it!”

“ _I’M_ NOT WORTH **_YOUR_ ** LIFE,” Nanu snarled, panting from the force, “I’m just an old bastard, Guzma! I’m fifty-three! What life do I have left that needs to be protected? I haven't dated anyone since I was in my thirties much less had anyone in my bedroom since my _late_ _twenties_. I don't have a family! I never will! It's too late! I’m constantly depressed and angry and I look like a fucking _alien_ because of my condition! No one wants me, Guzma! I live alone in a fucking _abandoned police station_. I'm not even a real cop! I'm not even allowed to carry a gun because they know I’m gonna blow my fucking brains out! You and the meowth are _literally_ the only things that have kept me from killing myself, and you think some mean words are going to break me? They aren't creative, Guzma! I’ve heard it all before! Hell, I tell it to myself every day! I know I’m broken and I sure as hell know I’m violent and I know that if it weren't for you I would be dead right now. If I hadn't met you when you were a kid I would have died by that lake...and if you hadn't taken charge of Team Skull and you hadn't needed my help right now...I would have killed myself. Gun or no gun I would have done it. My life...it's not worth anything. You have worth, Guzma. You're a powerful trainer and I know you try to hide it but you're incredibly kind and compassionate and...people would benefit from having you around. Not me. I'm too old, Guzma. It's too late for me to have a family. It's too late for me to erase my past or change who I am: a fucking _pathetic_ old man with a fucking shitty temper and a severely _fucked_ _up_ mental state. You...you have a chance to change your life. At least you did. You wasted your chance on an old wretch like me. You fucking _blew_ _it_. I tried _so hard_ to keep you from turning into someone like me and you just...your chance is gone.”

Nanu sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. His jaw ached from talking so much. He stayed quiet for a reason. His body ached just from existing as it was. “Look, Guzma, let's just-.” Nanu froze.

Fat tears rolled down Guzma's cheeks, his face twisted in heartbreak as his chest rose and fell in tune with his choppy breaths. His hands trembled at his sides—actually, his whole body was shaking. He looked as if he were about to crumble. Guzma didn't even bother to wipe away the tears that dripped from his jaw

Nanu cursed and rubbed a hand down his face. He shouldn't have ever said any of that to him. Guzma's emotions were wild enough. Now he’s gone and provoked the boy’s emotions to blow out of proportion. “Guzma, I didn't mean-.”

“Please...please don't kill yourself,” Guzma croaked.

Nanu opened his mouth to speak, but stopped. He didn't know what to say.

“I...I know it's hypocritical for me of all people to tell you not to kill yourself, but _please_ don't do it. I...I’m only alive because of you. You're all I have. You're the only good person I have left in my life. Fuck, the _only_ person left in my life. I’ve been suicidal since the day I was born but lately I've wanted...I wanted to stay living. It's because of you. Just to _see_ _you_ and spend _time_ with you and because I know that if I were dead, for some reason that would actually _matter_ to you. If I didn't have you I would...I would be dead with or without help from the people who hate me. You're...you’re like the fa-...like the family I never really had. You're the only person who actually cares for me and _understands_ me and asks what's wrong instead of hitting me. You've been so kind to me and I _love_ it. I love having someone look after me, and I look up to you because you're such a strong person and you're able to handle your depression and anger with subtlety that my father could only _dream_ of me having. You treat me like a _person_ and you accept that I have problems and you work with me in ways people never even thought of _trying_. You save pokémon and you saved me and Acerola from being all alone, and I just don't want to see what the world would be like without you. I know it's corny as fuck to say shit like that but it's the truth. I just...please don't hurt yourself. I’ll do whatever I can to make you happy and I’ll try my hardest to behave and do as you ask. Just don't kill yourself. The world can't lose someone like you. I...I can't lose you, Nanu,” Guzma gasped as a sob tore free from his throat.

Guzma buried his face deep into his bandaged hands as he cried uncontrollably. Horrific images of Nanu's blood coating the walls and soaking into the furniture and floors of the tiny little police station filled his mind and haunted his thoughts. There were so many ways Nanu could do it. He could take a knife from the kitchen and sharpen it until he could easily slice into his skin. He could bash his skull on the metal sink until his skull split and spat blood. Wrap bedsheets around his frail neck. He could do so many things. There was no way Guzma could stop him. The large scar on his forehead and the scars on his thighs began to burn as his imagination clashed with memories of placing his own life at risk. It was almost impossible for him to breathe as he wailed, his breath growing thinner and thinner with each cry until he became lightheaded.

Rough hands firmly pulled Guzma’s hands from his face, exposing the boy’s swimming and frantic eyes. Nanu carefully took hold of his face and forced Guzma to look down at the other man. “Guzma, breathe. You're having a panic attack and hyperventilating. Just focus on my voice and try to breathe, okay? You're going to be okay. We both are, alright?” Nanu said softly.

Guzma didn't dare look away as Nanu spoke. He listened and did as instructed while Nanu took him step by step through breathing exercises. After a few minutes of Nanu's encouraging words his breathing had returned to normal and his crying flickered down to tiny whimpers.

“That's better. Good job. Are you doing okay?” Nanu asked. His fingers twitched to brush Guzma’s tears away, but Nanu stopped himself.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay. I-I’m sorry for losing it like that,” Guzma stammered.

Nanu’s face was eerily stoic, a look he reserved for situations and people he would rather not be involved with. Now that he thought about it, Guzma had become so used to seeing expressions on Nanu’s face that his usual guarded stare was disarming and...frightening. “Nonsense. I was the one who upset you. I shouldn't have said all of that. I knew it would cause problems but I said it anyways. It's my fault,” Nanu replied.

“N-no! I'm glad you told me! I mean...you have to tell someone that stuff. I get to tell you my problems so it's only fair that you tell me yours. It's not good for you to keep all of that locked up. I’m just...sorry that I didn't give you many reasons to stay alive besides my own selfish attachments,” Guzma said as his eyes lowered to the ground.

Nanu shrugged as he pulled away from the boy. Goosebumps spread on Guzma’s arms as the warmth of Nanu’s touch melted into ice. “It's fine. It's hard to live in this world and not be selfish.”

Guzma smiled weakly, uneased by the sudden lack of emotion in Nanu. Suddenly, without thought, Guzma reached out and pulled Nanu into his arms and hugged him tightly.

Nanu stiffened under the boy’s touch. A hand pressed on Guzma’s chest and pushed him away, the space between them returning as Nanu avoided his eyes. “Let’s get this over with and go home.”

Nanu’s hand retreated quickly and the kahuna walked away without another word. Guzma’s heart became heavy as doubt filled his mind. He had done the right thing, right?


End file.
